View Through a Glory Hole

Yesterday I went to the beach with my friend The Explorer (who is an ex boyfriend). We examined the cornucopia of seashells, rocks, coral, and fish as if we were astronauts visiting from another planet. Particularly interesting discoveries were announced aloud and held up as if we had created them ourselves.

Now I am quite fond of picking up sea urchins, hermit crabs, and men. The latter I seem to go home with and for reasons that elude me, call them boyfriends. The others I possess the wisdom to play with for a few minutes and then put them back where they belong.

The first time I came to this remote beach was with yet another ex-boyfriend whom I ultimately threatened with a restraining order. Nearly a year and a half ago we had wild sex on the sand, and again in one of the tide pools. He was charming, handsome, and at times affectionate. He frequently gave me presents, and the offerings made it easier to ignore the times he was yelling at me.

Our blissful relationship began to wane when one night I stumbled across him walking with another man into an adult video store. It was a charming place really that happened to specialize in glory holes. I sat on the ground beside a palm tree and cried.

I should have pushed him in front of a moving bus.