I am standing at the water’s edge, snapping shots, shot after shot, trying to capture that perfect red leaf, against the perfect white sand. How do I get it? I want to catch the waves rolling in at the top of the shot, too, to make this picture just right. Just so.
I’m wearing a tiny bikini, and I know it, and I know that my ass is beautifully exposed to the entire beach behind me, but I don’t care, I just really want to get this shot. I get it (sort of), and turn, ready to head back to my towel, but as soon as I look up, I see the most stunning couple in the world in front of me- well, the most stunning couple on this beach, easily.
They are holding hands, walking towards me, and they are looking at me, large, curious, dark eyes taking me in. I look from one to the next, then drop my eyes, shy, and walk towards quickly towards my towel. I turn, sit down, and watch. I was going to leave, but now I can’t. They are too beautiful not to watch.
She is stunning, the perfect woman. She has brown skin, and long brown hair, which falls down the middle of her back. It is messy, but perfect. Perfectly messy. She has a bright blue bikini on, but wait, it’s only a bikini bottom. Her back is turned now, but I remember her breasts, unbelievable breasts, gorgeous, round, and heavy as she walked into the water. I also remember her face- full lips, pink of course, and deep brown eyes. The eyes of a Brazilian, perhaps. On her head she wears a pointed straw hat, like a Vietnamese rice farmer. She walks slowly into the water, her arms pressed to her chest.
He is also stunning, though like the male counterpart in any stunning pair, he is not quite as interesting to look at. But I do, anyway, just to see her other half, the completion of this brown-skinned couple. He has dark hair and dark eyes, and a scruffy beard along the sides of his face. His eyes are bright, and he is staring at her.
They play in the water for a long time. She takes her hat off and puts it on his head. They circle each other slowly, and he leans in for a kiss- slowly. Their lips meet and hold, then they part. They giggle, and their heads are close together, as they share jokes, look at fish, I don’t know.
I watch her plug her nose as she dunks underwater. She comes up, dark hair stuck to her back, her shoulder blades sharp but beautiful. Water drips off her glistening skin. They crouch down in the water again, treading water with their arms, circling one another. He leans in for another kiss, and I hold my breath, watching. She allows him to kiss her, their lips meeting and holding for a moment. When they pull apart, she turns her head and spits into the water. Salt water from his lips, a bit of sand in her mouth? I don’t know, but it suddenly makes her human, and all the more precious. Girls are so precious like that. So stunningly beautiful, and yet so real. Goddesses walking on the beach.
Later, when they get out of the water, they walk slowly. She is hobbling a bit, and I wonder if she cut her foot on a piece of coral. She covers her bare chest with the hat as she walks, uninhibited but modest. Good girl.
Girls like this are unreal only because they are so real. If she had held her head regally, she would have been annoying. If she had bounced out of the water, breasts exposed to the world, she would have been too much. But she hobbled out, not quite perfect, and she was utterly adorable. She spit after her boyfriend kissed her, and that made me feel like she was my friend, like she was any girl I know and love.
Later, I am sitting at a luscious jungle restaurant called Sensi Paradise. It is worthless to try to describe its perfection right now, because it is too ambitious of a project, and I don’t have it in me. Suffice it to say, their coconuts come out cracked with a straw in the middle and an orchid on the side. Their pathways turn into wooden footbridges, arching perfectly over lovely koi ponds. The waiters smile all the way up to their eyes, sincerely pleased to serve you.
So I am sitting at Sensi Paradise, enjoying my chilled coconut juice out of the coconut when a handsome stranger appears near my table, rinsing his hands off at the sink. He is facing toward me, almost awkwardly close, but the necessity of washing his hands allows the proximity. I take a bite out of my tuna focaccia sandwich, and a bit of spinach trails behind, caught between my sandwich and my teeth. It drops out of the sandwich and swings against my chin, sticking there. Embarrassing. But I reach up, ease it away, and suck it into my mouth, chewing happily. I look out at the water and remember the imperfect perfect girl, and am totally content to be me.