Life as Rose

So my friend Diana and I went to the beach on Saturday for an all-day excursion. The weather in Victoria has been kind of finicky, and I’ve been missing out on most of the good stuff, so this was one of my first days in awhile being able to get out in the sun. It was amazing. I am red today.

We went in the ocean, we played volleyball, we tanned, and we stared rudely at a girl tanning in her thong. Not thong bikini. THONG. Lacy thong.

This was probably the best part of our beach trip. We’re lying in the sun, checking out these gorgeous guys playing volleyball right next to us and looking forward to the next time they hit the ball too hard so that it would bonk me in the head (this happened at least three times, but it was OK, because they were cute and they made an even cuter joke every time it happened.) …Then me and Diana would swoon for a few minutes before getting back to whatever we were talking about.

At one point as we were talking our eyes shifted focus to a girl behind Diana who had only shown up recently. It took a second of processing, and then at the same time, we both stop and are all, “Is she wearing a thong bikini?!”

Which, I KNOW, the whole world is into thong bikinis now, and I am totally cool with this, except that me and Diana had just been talking about how we had no idea where you could buy them in Victoria, and how neither of us had ever seen one In Real Life. Only on gossip blogs (me) and TV shows (her).

So we get up and casually go to stare at her butt from a better vantage point (while still attempting to be nonchalant about it), and realize that NO, this girl didn’t find the secret stash of thong bikinis for sale in Victoria. She just brought her zebra stripe black lace underwear to the beach. That, up close, cannot be mistaken for anything but UNDERWEAR.

Why did she pick one with lace, is the real question.

At any rate, it had attracted a good deal of attention from the public – a group of guys had lined themselves up on the log behind her, a shameless view of an exposed butt.

This attention ALSO indirectly lead to the demise of our romance with the cute volleyball guys, which had already started to sour after one guy said, “Thanks Lady,” after I threw the ball to him. Thanks Lady? LADY?! Maybe I’m just sensitive, but: Errrggg. It made my skin crawl.

Eventually, one of the cute volleyball guys comes over to talk with us, and he reveals that he’s been dared by his friends to invite miss Thong Underwear to play volleyball with them. I laughed a little and mentioned that Diana had been dying to play. You could tell he wasn’t overly motivated to go talk to the thong, and maybe a little more interested in flirting with us, so we talked a little, and then he goes to introduce himself, starting with Diana.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again? Crystal?”
“Um, DIANA.”

Which = the second reason why we dumped our volleyball boyfriends. CRYSTAL?! Who hears the name Diana, completely forgets about it, and then guesses with the name CRYSTAL?!?!?!? If I were to guess, I’d guess “Sarah” or “Michelle” or something that doesn’t sound like a porn star¹.

On the other hand, we did get a volleyball game out of the encounter, so it didn’t all end bad.

AND ANOTHER THING:
Could you ever use the term Fiance seriously? As in, “Yeah, my fiance and I went to see that movie last weekend!”

I think I’ll make the transition from boyfriend to husband and skip the whole fiance word. It just seems weird.

^{1YES, I am aware there are lots of Crystals out there who aren’t porn stars. And that you might be one of them.}