The Odds Are Good
These are a few things my infinite experience has taught me...
If I go shopping with lots of money, I will find nothing. Or if I go to the grocery store looking like the bottom of someone's shoe, I will see the man of my dreams. And, of course, if I get the opportunity to meet this man of my dreams, he has a lover named Yorgo. Do I even need to mention what happens, or should I say doesn't happen, if I stock up on condoms?
Knowing all this, it really shouldn't have come as a major surprise to me that taking my mother to Cancun for the weekend would be the time that I meet more hot men than the city of Denver could even contain. Yes, for once I planned a nice, relaxing get away with mom where I could forget all about the daily hassles of the male-female dichotomy. Instead I was thrown into a raging ocean of gorgeous Canadians, Argentineans and various other exotic treats from all over the world.
I'm not sure if mom saw my bulging eyes or dangling tongue, but something clued her into the fact that I needed some major flirt time, sans her. As soon as we checked into the beautiful Oasis hotel she went to our room for some shut eye, while the eye candy lured me in the direction of the pool. There was a DJ playing Latin techno and the most hideous guy instructing water aerobics. He had a gold lamay g-string and a long pony tail braid that was fighting his back hair for space. Luckily, the rest of the scenery was much more appealing.
I spotted a group of at least seven guys together where all of them were hot and quite obviously not American. I scoped out a lounge chair scamming distance from them, spread out my towel and, within seconds, had three broken English offers to rub lotion on my back. I then realized that this vacation was going to be anything but an escape from men, and when they are 6' and above, dark and gorgeous, who cares? From what I could understand of the one rubbing in more sunscreen than I would need in a week, there was a big party going on later at Coco Bongo for Argentine spring break. So the dilemma began. Would it be easier to pass up all this fun or to turn mom into a 20 something party animal?
Mom and I went to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Before I could even pose the question to her, she told me that she planned on getting a lot of rest this vacation, so if I wanted to go out at night, she would be just fine with staying back at the room alone.
"Well, OK then. I guess I will go out with my new Argentinean friends that I met at the pool today." I told her as if it were my second choice, fall back plan.
"You mean those little boys I saw you sitting with?"
"Little? They were all very tall."
"You know what I mean." She said in her Good God Stephanie You Are A Cradle Robber voice. "Not one of them could have been over 21."
"And you see this as a problem?"
Well, I guess one woman's problem is another's paradise. I quickly showered and cabbed it to the club. Coco Bongo is this huge dance club that I often close down on my Cancun visits. They are as over the top as a disco can be with confetti and bubble showers and loud music that shakes your heart. Everyone totally lets loose and you can find anything from very dirty dancing on the bars to heavy petting in the bathroom hallway. I found my cabanaboys and danced with some, while the others delivered me drinks at approximately 15 minute intervals.
The next night was pretty much the same, except a different club and a different sundial of men. In fact, everywhere in Cancun there is about 8 guys to every girl. This time it was a group of guys from Toronto who were a little older and a bit more fun. There's something nice about actually being able to communicate with your harem. One in particular made my head spin, and this was even before the massive consumption of vodka drinks. He was a great dancer and when we started to tango, there were cries of "Get a Room!" from passerby's. Unfortunately, my room contained one mom and his three other guys. We did, however, take full advantage of the cab ride to our hotels giving new meaning to taking the scenic route.
On the plane ride home mom and I reminisced about the warm air, great meals and beautiful beach. She felt she achieved some much needed relaxation and even though I was suffering from sleep deprivation, I felt fulfilled. She said she doesn't understand my interest in young foreign men and asked why I always go to Mexico.
"Well, mom, the odds are good."
And she responded with, "Yes, but the goods are odd."