I have a love/hate relationship with Mike from Toronto. I love that he moved out, but I hate how it was done.

Last night was fun. I ate at the Pastafari restaurant with the last people in the group. Good times, okay meal.

I spent most of the day with them. I briefly tried going to the nude pool, but I got bored there. Unless you’re aggressive, or a voyeur, it doesn’t hold an attraction.

I did explore a bit and found a way to get to the roof of my building. It was almost completely dark up there. Better than anywhere else on the resort. And you could see all the stars, right down to the heavenly glow of the milky way.

At around midnight, the last remnants of the group hit the disco. There we put on a show for the others. Apparently it went well, because a lady in red PVC, a masseuse from Toronto, made it quite clear she like my butt. And after a lot of touchy-feely she introduced me to her husband.

This resort confuses me.

Later she said she was going to the nude pool and hoped I would join her. Tempting. But I lingered with my group. When they wanted to go stargazing I directed them to my spot.

After awhile I left them and went to see the woman. I don’t think I wanted anything to happen. I am desperate, but not that desperate. Still, it’s nice to be wanted. She was happy to see me, even though she was in the arms of some other guy (not her husband).

I stayed awhile, but I don’t like to watch and the pool does feel dirty. So I went back to my stargazing friends. At around 3:30 we drifted away. I wandered around a bit more and found the aforementioned woman in the arms of her husband while her new friend was going full bore on her.

I went to pack. Spent 45 minutes in a hammock and then went to bed.

This morning, Mike from Toronto came to me. I found out later that when he left my room, the resort got mixed up and, according to the computers, I had actually been the one to move.

Mike told me he had received a phone message for me Saturday night. He was hazy enough on the details to make it the worst message ever. “Hi. This is (girl’s name forgotten). I’m at the main bar now. I’m heading to my room and I hope you’ll join me.”

So all the juicy details are there except missing a name. And 48 hours late. It’s a nice compliment, but I almost wish I hadn’t heard it. Now I get to leave Hedonism with regrets. And it wasn’t even my fault.

I hope this hasn’t hurt any woman’s feelings.