BEACHSIDE
COLONY
RESORT
TYBEE’S ONLY OCEANFRONT RESORT
TYBEE ISLAND'S
ONLY OCEAN
FRONT RESORT!
We are Beachside Colony’s only
onsite management company,
proudly doing business for over 30
years. Please contact us for all of
your property management needs.
Openings available for new properties
for the 2018 Season.
JOIN OUR RENTAL PROPERTY TEAM!
912-786-4535
TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | MARCH 2018 19
Tinder and simply walking down the street. You’ve seen me reduce my
MUST HAVE list from four items to two items. You’ve seen me crushed
by my complete inability to handle my own damn sex life. Well, you only
thought you had seen me crushed. I am now completely, irrevocably
devastated. This may be my last entry... I have applied to the Convent and
I hope that someone will accept me for who I am (even if it is God – haha
– not really).
I apologize for not telling y’all this earlier, but I wanted to see what kind
of science experiment this was going to be: Like the frog that was already
dead during Anatomy 101 or the pig that you had to kill and then autopsy
(forgot which class that was). Anyway, last year during tourist season, I did
it. I found myself a tourist. I had ALWAYS scoffed at the natives that start
roaming during tourist season. Like fresh meat coming to town and there
is the most epic sale in the ham hock section of the meat department
happening from March to September! Ugh I thought. You people must have
some standards. But … I gotta say, it was fun! Thoroughly enjoyed myself
from the tips of my toes to all of my split ends. 100% sure he would say the
same. One moment … I need to collect myself.
Just a one nighter. Never to happen again. He lived many states away (let’s
call him Michigan for the sake of it). But we couldn’t stop texting each
other. It wasn’t sexting (o.k. maybe a little, but nothing cringe inducing),
but just fun, good times texts that had zero depressing bits involved. None
of this “I had a super depressing day and now I am on the couch drinking
a magnum of wine and crying in my cat’s hair” kind of days, but fun jokey
stupid stuff to brighten up dull days of just getting through it. This had been
going on for five months and we did discuss meeting up somewhere in the
Continental 50 and carrying on.
Then one day he texted me that he was having oral surgery. My sympathies
went out, as I have been there and it is truly an unpleasant experience, but
I am HUGE on teeth and the desire to have them. All. All of them remain
inside my head (it is, as you know, my Rule 1. Unbreakable.). If I were to
ever lose a tooth, in let’s say some drunken mishap, Dr. Jessanna Smith of
Tybee Teeth would find me lying on her front stoop with an empty vodka
bottle and my credit card on my chest the next day, if not that very same
night.
Michigan had his surgery Tuesday and I sent a sympathy text. He sent me
a picture of his pulled tooth on the dentist tray. Ugh. Why are men so, just
blatantly gross? I withdrew in horror but told him to pull himself together
and make a cocktail and swallow his pain pills with it. A week went by and
I hadn’t heard from him, so I sent him a text to see how he was doing. He
sent me a picture of his X-ray. Now, keep in mind, this entire time I had
been assuming this was kind of a molar or wisdom tooth situation. I got
the X-Ray and recoiled so fast from my phone I almost blacked out. It was
one of his front teeth!!! NO NO NO!! Why? Why? What had I done to elicit
this kind of karmic hell?
I sat down to namaste my breathing and think - dentistry these days is a
wonderful thing. No problem. Slap a cap on that scene and let’s get busy.
Nope. Apparently due to bone degeneration and some other crazy things
going on in Michigan’s mouth, it is forever to be an empty, gaping hole. I.
Cannot. Will. Not. Get. Past. This.
I just lost the love of my loins. My pitter-pattering heart has now deflated to
the size of a five-month-old dried up donut. I am distraught. He is supposed
to be back this summer. I have until June to quit my life and move out of the
state. Unless, of course, I am accepted at the convent. Although at this late
stage in my game, I would be delighted to be accepted at Georgia Regional.
Either one, I have given up on love. Over a tooth. Damn.