Minotaur
Governor
The Bride, Groom, and the 40 Something’s
My girl’s of the B. I. T. C. H. Club and I planned the trip to Mexico well. The days were for lounging in the pool & sun, afternoons, of course, shopping, night was dedicated Tequila trouble. We ended each evening with a final poolside drink and review at about 2:00 am. So here we were laying on the loungers with drinks in hand when our attention was drawn to a truly beautiful young girl and her equally young husband. The staff told us they were on their honeymoon. Every man around looked at her admiringly and looked at the groom with that “You lucky bastard” expression. 4 forty something women with edges frayed long ago swam up to the couple and began overtly flirting as if oblivious of the young bride, or maybe challenged to compete by her youthful beauty. The bride wore sunglasses that hid her emotion. The groom apparently had not quite found his married self when he responded to the older women who in turn had lost all maternal instinct for this game. It seemed odd but little more. We left and raced after our fun.
Poolside at 2:00 am we sat laughing about the day when suddenly we heard loud noises drawing nearer from the open veranda doors. Someone was sobbing as if her heart was breaking. As she reached the top of the stairs we could see the bride. Too young to control whatever drove her pain, she lashed out at the large urns on both sides of the wide staircase. They were as big as she was and plants made them too heavy for her tiny frame but she did it. One by one the urns shattered onto the floor below. Still sobbing she ran down the steps and began tossing chairs and loungers into the pool while her pain rattled the heavens. We sat in stunned silence not sure we wanted to be seen by her for her sake. The guards came and escorted her to wherever they take you in a Mexico resort. We laughed uncomfortably at the little firecracker turned super woman but laughing didn’t help. You could still feel her deep pain. We called it a night and tried to shake it off.
The next afternoon the four frumps came up to us as if they had something to share. We didn’t know them well enough to care so perhaps it was simply that they felt the need to brag. One asked us if we saw what happened at the pool and we said we did. They started laughing smugly and exchanged knowing glances with each other. One said “We kept the groom at our place until after midnight,” she added, “and I think we made her jealous.”
My mouth does not always listen to my brain when I get angry and the thought of the young bride crying set it into auto-mouthy mode, “Don't know why she would be jealous, every man here envies the groom. Don’t blame yourself because he went blind-stupid. Trust me – she is so innocent and beautiful that it had absolutely nothing at all to do with any one of you.”
Ignoring the 4 now dining on the reality of a thing, the B. I. T. C. H. Club on our traveling caper that took us away from our own daughters toasted a temporarily adopted stranger’s daughter and somehow the Margarita tasted much better as we got back to being the hot single babes we were in Mexico.
My girl’s of the B. I. T. C. H. Club and I planned the trip to Mexico well. The days were for lounging in the pool & sun, afternoons, of course, shopping, night was dedicated Tequila trouble. We ended each evening with a final poolside drink and review at about 2:00 am. So here we were laying on the loungers with drinks in hand when our attention was drawn to a truly beautiful young girl and her equally young husband. The staff told us they were on their honeymoon. Every man around looked at her admiringly and looked at the groom with that “You lucky bastard” expression. 4 forty something women with edges frayed long ago swam up to the couple and began overtly flirting as if oblivious of the young bride, or maybe challenged to compete by her youthful beauty. The bride wore sunglasses that hid her emotion. The groom apparently had not quite found his married self when he responded to the older women who in turn had lost all maternal instinct for this game. It seemed odd but little more. We left and raced after our fun.
Poolside at 2:00 am we sat laughing about the day when suddenly we heard loud noises drawing nearer from the open veranda doors. Someone was sobbing as if her heart was breaking. As she reached the top of the stairs we could see the bride. Too young to control whatever drove her pain, she lashed out at the large urns on both sides of the wide staircase. They were as big as she was and plants made them too heavy for her tiny frame but she did it. One by one the urns shattered onto the floor below. Still sobbing she ran down the steps and began tossing chairs and loungers into the pool while her pain rattled the heavens. We sat in stunned silence not sure we wanted to be seen by her for her sake. The guards came and escorted her to wherever they take you in a Mexico resort. We laughed uncomfortably at the little firecracker turned super woman but laughing didn’t help. You could still feel her deep pain. We called it a night and tried to shake it off.
The next afternoon the four frumps came up to us as if they had something to share. We didn’t know them well enough to care so perhaps it was simply that they felt the need to brag. One asked us if we saw what happened at the pool and we said we did. They started laughing smugly and exchanged knowing glances with each other. One said “We kept the groom at our place until after midnight,” she added, “and I think we made her jealous.”
My mouth does not always listen to my brain when I get angry and the thought of the young bride crying set it into auto-mouthy mode, “Don't know why she would be jealous, every man here envies the groom. Don’t blame yourself because he went blind-stupid. Trust me – she is so innocent and beautiful that it had absolutely nothing at all to do with any one of you.”
Ignoring the 4 now dining on the reality of a thing, the B. I. T. C. H. Club on our traveling caper that took us away from our own daughters toasted a temporarily adopted stranger’s daughter and somehow the Margarita tasted much better as we got back to being the hot single babes we were in Mexico.
