I’m Not Coming Home!

Dating, Humor, People, Travel

After this trip, I have come to realize that “it feels like we just got here” and “time flies when you’re having fun” are not just bullshit phrases but actually hold validity in a place like this.  It really feels like we just got here.  Time flew fast while we were having fun.

The truth is, I don’t want to come home.

What are my options for staying here?  I could live off the land and potentially try my hand at bar tending again…then charm my way into the heart of some older fellow still bleeding ink from the pen he’s using on his last will.  All plausible.

My parents were like, Savannah what would you do if you lived on the beach?  I was like…be really thin, tan, and fucking rich once the ink dries on that poor sap’s will.  But really.

On family trips like these, I’m usually in more of an “are we there yet?” phase.  I just want to get where I’m going as quickly as possible in a greater effort to get back where I came from as quickly as possible.  Time always drags by as I wait for my little family reunion to come to a close.

Not this time.

This time I was in paradise.  There was a beach in view from the balcony, beer in the fridge, homemade salsa and cookies on the table.  

I feel like a fucking princess.  In fact, I think I am one.  I think in the short period of time between me leaving my college town and arriving here, I transformed into a modern day princess.  I have my own room, my own bathroom, and my own fucking king size bed.  Maybe this was really what I wanted all along.

You go your whole life being force-fed to think you need trivial things like love, education and security, only to realize all you really needed was the ocean, an ice cold beer and a fridge to keep it in.

No princess problems here aside from the sand crisis described in my last post.  I am looking for potential glitches in the princess lifestyle.  Thus far, none.

I could not deny, however, I was a little irritated by the condo’s interior design.  Everything was a fucking mermaid, starfish, ship, seashell, lighthouse, sand, water, dolphin, or other beach-related thing you can imagine.  I want to meet the owner someday and be like…”So how did you pick the theme?  Like what inspired this blue green color scheme?” .

Sorry, that’s the princess in me talking.  But really, it’s so fucking beautiful here.  I’ve become one of those lame people who gets really overcome by nature’s beauty.  It is so pretty, it looks fake.  I keep jumping back behind the wall and then in sight of the balcony again just to make sure the ocean stays put.  Every time I see the sunset or the moon’s reflection on the water, I’m convinced for a solid 45 seconds that everything is an illusion and life as we know it is not real.  I’m still not quite sure.

While I have to admit, being here for a wedding and spending a week with my own sappy parents, I had been feeling a bit “sincerely fifth wheel.”  But honestly, I cannot really imagine needing a prince here.  No prince really seemed up to my beach princess standards, especially not any of the ones back home.  When I say home, I was referring to my college town, but let’s face it paradise is my new home!  

Fuck it friends, I’m mailing you your t-shirts and shot glasses with the flattest rate standard shipping money can buy.  I’m not coming home!  I don’t wanna…and now that I’m a princess, I only do things I want to do and when I want to do them.  Any diversions from this nature are going to equal me throwing the biggest tantrum this coast has ever seen?  Ya feel me?

Honestly, I don’t think any one cares if I come back.  My friends and family have to know I’m more trouble than I’m worth.  In fact, I’ve found a new family.  The groom’s family is this adorable religious and conservative bunch with tons of kids.  Believe it or not, I fit right in.  

They are all Old Navy trendy with fishtail braids in that long Pentecostal hair of theirs.  They never drag their feet about chores, the siblings don’t fight, and the mom makes the best veggie soup in this time zone.  They even laugh at my jokes that don’t use the word “fuck” so I don’t really know what to think about that.  They are so cute, I could just put them in my pockets…pockets plural, both front and back, because there are so many of them.  I think I’m in love.  They are way better than the Brady Bunch and even give the Duggar’s a run for their money.

Fuck it!  I’m staying on the beach with my overly conservative family.  They can braid my hair, laugh at my jokes, and feed me soup…all ocean-side of course.  In fact, who minds chores?  I love my new royal family.  I’ll wash dishes all day long beaches.


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