What’s Your Preference?

A couple months ago, I went to lunch with a friend. We were catching up about my time in Australia and about life in general.

We were probably talking about Facebook when she told me my page says to ask about my relationship status. I told her that was because I'd taken off that I was single and interested in men a few years ago, right when Facebook started targeting ads based on your info. Because I find targeted ads creepy and was sick of getting ads for dating websites and that the ads stopped immediately after taking that info off. 

She persisted and questioned if there was anything to ask about, then interrupted herself and said she thought she already knew. “What do you think you know?” I asked, and she said, "There's a girl you had posted a picture with a while ago, and she changed her profile picture to it recently."

Me and Alli

"Oh, Alli? Yea, we're soul mates, but I'm straight." By soul mates, I meant we like the same music and reading and maps and tequila and random dance parties. She asked if I was sure and said she'd talked about it with her boss about it. He'd told her some people who travel long-term are asking themselves questions about life and that they go off to travel, meet new people, try different things, and come to some answers. All of which I agree with, so I asked her what the question was. "Your preference."

Yea, still straight.


ETA: My point was that I just don't understand the curiosity about other people's sexuality.
Just wanted to make clear that it's not an insult to be asked if I'm a lesbian or bi-sexual.

Attracting Locals

In many foreign countries, especially where feminism hasn't taken off, something about American girls inspires the local men to salivate over them, hooting and hollering like crazy. Punta Cana proved no different--Lauren and I both got ourselves what we like to call "bartender boyfriends." Here's a day-by-day play-by-play of our encounters.

Saturday:

We had full bottles of liquor in our room for shots!

The night we flew in, we were exhausted, so we had some shots and went to dinner. On our way back to our room, we bypassed the dance floor, knowing if we tried to cut through, our American-ness (or the fact that we were hotel guests) would encourage the entertainers, who were getting guests to dance, to force us to dance.

Sunday:
We hung out at the pool after our spa time. Lunch was in the large patio by the pool, where one of the table clearers kept winking at me. He never said anything other than asking whether I was done with my plate, but he did wink every time I saw him that week.

After pool time, we hit the bar because...well, we already paid for it. Luis started flirting with me and Victor with Lauren. After a nap and dinner, we went back to the bar, where they made eyes at us the whole night. These were our main "bartender boyfriends."

Monday:
The second day, we went on a "safari." The most important employee on our truck was the bartender, who was in love with me. He kept telling me how pretty I was and tried to hold my hand every time he helped me off the truck. Driving past his favorite bar, he said "there, you drink, you dance, you sex." At the lunch stop, he dreamily told the bartender from another truck, "mira ella--ella es especial (look at her--she's special)." At the last stop, I was sitting on the bus waiting for the rest of the group, and he offered me: "Beer?" No. "Rum?" No. "Coke?" No. "Sprite?" No. "Water?" No. "Me?" Haha, clever, but no. 

Since we went back to the bar that night, we were back to being hit on by Luis and Victor. Also that night, Peluca (not his real name), one of the entertainers, asked Lauren to dance. He was apparently not that great of a dancer, more like a tweener at a junior high dance. He kissed her hand before depositing her back with me.

Tuesday:
We were hanging out by the pool when Peluca spotted us. He offered to sunscreen Lauren, but his technique was a little lacking since he had apparently jammed a finger and was in quite a bit of pain. Lauren, being a nurse, told him he should have it checked out.

We did water aerobics with Bugs Bunny (the entertainers were clearly not using their real names). At the end of class, he had everyone get in a circle and say their name and where they were from. When I said 'Monica,' he said, "oh, Monica Lewinsky, I am your Bill Clinton" and hugged me. Machine (again, with the name) introduced himself to Lauren, but Peluca was quick to jump in and claim her; he proceeded to kiss her cheeks, all European-like, and then give her a peck on the lips. Not cool dude, not cool. He wanted to eat lunch with us, but we fake passed out on our pool loungers.

That night, we met some American guys, Nick and Matt, also staying at the hotel and were hanging out at the bar. We actually attracted quite a crowd that night, including Paula, who was getting blitzed since it was her last night. She was trying to get our group and some of the bartenders to go to the disco, but we had to get up early the next day. So we passed on the disco, even though our bartender boyfriends were gung-ho about it.

Wednesday:
When we went to check in for SCUBA diving, the guy at the dive desk radioed to the boat that he had un hombre y dos chicas bonitas. 

Lauren and I grabbed lunch at the main restaurant. Our water waiter called me 'princesa' the whole time and asked if I would go to the disco with him that night. I told him I'd try, and he insisted, "you won't forget me, will you?" I don't know about forget so much as prefer to sleep. 

We met up with Nick and Matt for the rest of the day. What else was there to do but go to the bar for the evening? Our bartender boyfriends got jealous that night. Luis wouldn't even look at me; he kept shaking his head and looking away. Victor had a sad look on his face all night but did ask Lauren if she would go for a walk on the beach with him, "just for 30 minutes." "I know what 30 minutes on the beach means," Lauren informed him, refusing to go.

Peluca didn't seem to mind, though, since he dragged Lauren to the dance floor again. Victor glared at Peluca as he whisked Lauren away. I told him he should go punch him, and he said he might.

Thursday:
We hung out with Nick and Matt all day and had a completely different experience of not being hit on. Except when I went to exchange towels by myself, and the towel guy teased me that I couldn't exchange towels but had to take the towel cards. So I took the cards then handed the cards back and requested two towels.

At dinner, the water waiter from the day before either didn't recognize me or chose to ignore me. Our bartender boyfriends were still resentful that we had abandoned them.

Friday:
Nick and Matt left Friday, so it was back to the bar by ourselves that night. We had tips for our bartender boyfriends. But first, we had to convince our beaus that the guys were only amigos, not competition. Victor was easy to sway, especially when Juan Carlos, another bartender, tried to convince Victor that Lauren was his and I was Victor's. Victor would have none of that. Luis took a lot more persuading, but I was able to win back his affection by the end of the night.

We are fans of dollar folding, so our tips were folded into origami shapes. Lauren's tip for Victor was a boat, "barquita for you to visit me." Victor informed Lauren that while there are other pretty girls that come to the resort, she's the only one who has stolen his heart; he couldn't stop thinking about her. Mine for Luis was a ring, which he promptly showed off to his boss. He told me I needed to come back next year because he likes looking at me. I told him I like to see other places. "No, you work, save your money, and come back here next year." I'm an accountant, buddy, I know how it works.

Lauren and Victor

Luis and I

Saturday:
We had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to get to the airport for our flight home. The driver who picked us up, was asking if we were married or had kids. When I told him no, he said I needed to marry a Dominican, and I would have lots of kids. When I told him that I love kids but don't want any of my own, he said maybe I shouldn't marry a Dominican!

ETA: Sorry for the previously whorephobic title (and permalink).

What Happens in Key West...

Some college friends, my sister, and some friends of one of the college friends rented a house in Marathon Key for the week. We drove down to Key West a few nights. 

For dinner, my college friends, sister, and I went to Margaritaville, where our waiter opened with, "You're going to have crappy service tonight. If you have a shot of tequila before dinner and one after dinner, it will make my poor performance seem much better. Help me to help you." Throughout dinner, he was giving everyone a hard time, in a funny, joking way. 

We went on our way after dinner but saw him out at a bar he had suggested. Later, he awkwardly kissed someone's ear, and even later, there was a moment of panic regarding suspected stalking, but he disappeared. Foof! We made sure to walk on the other side of the road or walk swiftly past the restaurant the rest of the time.

At Rick's Bar, we were the only ones dancing for most of the time we were there, but there was a guy in a black shirt who came up behind my friend and her boyfriend and started grinding on her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was slightly alarmed but continued dancing. 

Black shirt guy moved on to dance with all of us, asking each if she had a husband. Someone told him, "yes, in fact, I have three husbands!" And that all of us there were staying at the same place and, in fact, in the same bed. He offered his bed, but the offer was not accepted. When he asked me, I said no, and he reacted like he was annoyed: "geez, everyone here has a husband." Maybe he misheard me? 

"Desperate Dance"  note his wide smile and look of desperation in his eyes

Anyway, black shirt guy's friend, plaid shirt guy, joined in dancing for a while, twirling me around the dance floor. He asked what we were all doing there, so I told him it was a girl's trip...well, plus one boyfriend. He grinned and said, "I left my boyfriend at home!" Then he proceeded to do the desperate dance with me, confusing me. Then, black shirt guy went back to his group of friends, threw his empty beer bottle on the floor, and was promptly kicked out.

Continuing on at Rick's, there was a man we deemed to be a local who was dancing by himself, refusing to dance with anyone else. He was schmammered. He humped a garbage can and then banged the air while using a beer bottle as his schlong. We tried to get one of my friends to dance with him, but she was a little intimidated by all the thrusting.