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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
Don’t Drool at the Pool

“Honey? Do you like the scenery?”

Cool-guy didn’t hear me.

“How do you know about this place?” I asked.

No answer. He was distracted.

I started walking towards the bathrooms at the far end of the pool. “Well. I think you picked a great place for us to use the bathroom.”

My boyfriend walked slowly next to me. He was staring, open mouthed at a beautiful blond woman floating around the swimming pool in her skin colored bikini.

I laughed again. “It sure is pretty here, isn’t it?”

Though his feet continued to move forward, his gaze was glued to the woman in the pool. The floater had his complete and total attention. Her attention was directed towards the man at her side.

“Not too many people out here, are there?” I tried to break the spell. Um. No. Not a chance. Why does he rub my makeup off my face, insisting I look best as my natural self, then spend his spare time staring down a woman with matching lips, nails and toenails? It made me want to steal mascara from the gift shop.

He slowed his step so he could drink up every last drop of her floating body.

Ok. Um. Enough. I bit my lower lip. This was the first time in eight months my boyfriend was embarrassing me. This was his very first all out stare. And. Man. He was doing it like a pro.

We had walked to the end of the pool. I folded my arms, wondering what he would do next. Would he stand at the far corner and continue gaping? Turn around and walk back so he could continue watching? Or return to his senses with a defensive complaint about having something stuck in his eye?

He was about to walk into a sign pointing towards clean, fluffy towels. I considered letting him crash as a lesson in ‘Why it’s Dangerous to Drool at the Pool,’ but at the last minute I pressed my hand into his chest.

He stopped walking and turned to me, surprised.

I laughed. “Honey. You’ve gotta watch out for strange Blond-chicks. They’ll hurt ya every time.”

He looked pleadingly from the sign to me as if I were about to beat him with it.

I shrugged. “That poor innocent sign is standing here doing its job and you were about to demolish it. Luckily I was here to save the day.”

He leaned in to me. “Honey.” and searched for the right words. “I think I used to date that girl.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Right. Good try. I’m not buying it.” I kissed his cheek. Like he would ever have a serious relationship with a woman who wore red nail polish. No way. “You’d better watch out. I’m not always on pool duty, you know.”

We had stopped at the Princeville Resort in Kauai, Hawaii. Cool-guy wanted to show off the amazing views of Hana Lei bay and its waterfalls. I needed a bathroom break during our tour, so we headed for the pool.

Cool-guy looked nervous when he came out of the bathroom, which seemed a bit funny. Nothing less than tigers attacking him from inside a cage makes him nervous.

“Don’t worry, darlin. I’m not going to insist we stay in one of their bargain five hundred dollar a night rooms.”

He kissed me lightly on the lips and said intently, “I love you.”

I wrinkled up my face in a smile. Did he love me for not getting mad about the long stare or for not insisting we stay in this palace for the evening?

We walked back along the pool holding hands. Some guests were dozing in chairs while others were reading books. The water in the pool quietly lapped against the walls daring us to jump in.

Blond-chick called out, “Hi Cool-guy.”

He looked up and faked surprise. “OhmyGod. Blond-girl!”

We walked over. Luckily there wasn’t a towel sign. I’m certain I would have walked right into it.

They swam up to the edge of the pool. She pointed to the man next to her. “Let me introduce my husband, Martin. This is the first day of our honeymoon!”

Wow. I mean. Ok. So. Blond-chick. Let’s see. Oh. She was THAT ex-girlfriend. The one he dated for one year or so. They didn’t get along very well. Um. No wonder…I’ll bet those claws dug in quite deep. Eventually he wisened up. She was so happy to be rid of him, she ripped up all the photos and refused to stay in touch. This was their very first meeting after their breakup ten years ago.

I wondered if she would view running into her ex-boyfriend on the first day of her honeymoon as a good story like I do. I just love a good story.

Yeah. Guess who was staring now? Um. Me. I had to see if all the stories he’d told about her were true, or wild reconstructions. Watching her was the only way to see if she resembled the controlling blond in his stories.

“Congratulations.” We smiled, shaking hands all around.

I’d never before shaken hands with wet people. The handshake left my hand dripping. I quietly dried it on the back of my boyfriend’s shirt.

Note to self: When meeting ex-girlfriends for the first time, never show less skin. Um. Was he remembering the good times, the bad times or her body?

Martin laughed. “She didn’t see you walk by. But I saw your photo in one of her mother’s scrap books several years ago and knew it was you. She didn’t want to say hello, but I insisted. You guys dated for years. That warranted at least a hello, right?”

I watched Blond-chick’s face harden as her former one-year relationship was exaggerated into several years. She flashed her husband a look that he caught like a bulls eye across his face. He staggered back several steps where he waited quietly.

Cool-guy stood up extra straight. Was he trying to prove good posture? Like she would call her mother and say, “I met Cool-guy. He stands up straight now.” No. He must be trying to show her that he’s changed. That now he is taller, darker, handsomer, AND sweet. Maybe that’s why I got that intense kiss only moments ago. Yes. That’s it. He’s proving he LISTENS and he’s sweet. Maybe I’ll even get a nice back massage tonight.

I love running into his ex-girlfriends. They add such depth to my relationship.

“You saw his photo once and remembered him?” I asked Martin, wondering if he would think this was some kind of set up, us being here. “Do you get paid to look at faces?”

“Actually, I’m a police officer. I get paid to remember faces.” He said with a nod.

“Come on.” I said. “You can look at a photo once and years later recognize the person in real life?”

“Of course.” He said. “Can’t everyone?”

Hmm. I’ll bet he ran Cool-guy’s file, worrying his woman’s former love might start missing her. Maybe he kept the file on his desk at work. Maybe he’d look me up, too.

He smiled at me. “So. What’s your name?”

See? See? I turned to Cool-guy to prove my unmentioned theory, but he was busy reminiscing about a terrible vacation that they were now billing as ‘One of the best trips ever!’

“Holly Hinter.”

He nodded. “And what state are you from?”

I thought fast. “Kentucky.”

“Your parents are from there?”

“Yup. Mountain folk. Born and raised on the top of a big, Kentucky mountain.” Man. I could only hope he wouldn’t ask for a town. Ok. I’ll tell him I’m from ‘Poolville, Kentucky’ which is on top of Prince Mountain. Man. I’m good, aren’t I?

“You don’t have much of an accent.” He said, tilting his head to the side.

“Can you blame me?”

We laughed.

“So.” I asked, expertly turning the conversation away from me. “Have you ever caught a bank robber?”

After Cool-guy and I took leave of the honeymooners, it occurred to me they didn’t know we weren’t staying at their swank hotel. Imagine spending your whole honeymoon expecting your past to step into your personal Hallmark Card. Poor dears.

Oh no. What if they ditched their palace and ran away to our resort to escape from us? If only I had thought to suggest it. I would have put on my smallest bikini, sat with them at breakfast and insisted she tell her side of Cool-guy’s younger days. Oh. How I love a good story.

As we drove away I turned to my boyfriend. “So. What does running in to an old flame when you’re with your hot-n-spicy-fire-ball signify?”

“You know.” He sighed. “It makes me appreciate you even more.”

“Good answer.”

“Now.” He said. “Let’s stop at another resort. You never know. Maybe we can surprise one of your honeymooning exes.”

Wanna try another column? How about #133: Double Date which is about a taxi ride in Huelva, Spain.

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Copyright © 2004 by Holly Winter
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