This whole trip was a mistake. I knew that now, though it didn't really help me. I'd realised about four minutes after the plane left the ground that I was setting myself up for three miserable weeks. When we landed, I didn't even leave the airport, I went and found the airline's desk and tried to change my return ticket for the next flight home. They were happy to help, as long as I was prepared to pay $3000 for the privilege. Bastards.
So I came to the hotel, which actually turned out to be a bunch of little villas. Perfectly designed for honeymooning couples. Less so for men who had just been abandoned at the altar and were looking for some time to process the fact. Every evening, I'd sit outside, it was too hot to sit in the villa, and look out over the ocean. The moonlight glittered on the lilac water. I sipped a beer and wondered why the water was such a peculiar colour. Must be a trick of the light. As usual, the still night air was filled with the sound of lovemaking from the other villas. Have you ever noticed that sex actually sounds quite unpleasant?
It was worse during the day, when you'd go to the hotel restaurant to eat and they'd clear away the second place setting at your table. When you'd go to one of the activities and find out that it was designed for couples. When you'd wander down to the beach and say an awkward hello to a couple from the hotel and realise you knew exactly what they sounded like when they were fucking. The whole place was designed for couples. And I hated it. In fact, there was only one benefit to the whole thing. My father-in-law, well, he was supposed to be my father-in-law, paid for the whole thing. And encouraged me to go on the trip after his bitch of a daughter ditched me. Yeah, that was the only good thing about it.
That and all the drinks were included. That was pretty cool, too.
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