Pool Party

July 21. 2003

Fireworks and barbecues, mosquitoes and mojitos that never got made. Sunny day poolside and skinny dipping at night. Simone's parents have a house out in Jersey where they raise horses. 40-some odd horses on 50-some odd acres. She had a barbecue there on Saturday, and Jaime-girl invited me to come along. I've said that before, Jaime-girl is a pretty girl, but when we got there and she came out in her bathing suit ready to tan herself into oblivion, the word "pretty" lost its power. Black bikini, purple sunglasses, tanned skin, and long blonde hair conspired into something more along the lines of "knockout". Two of Simone's other friends were already there, poolside, and we sat and talked and swam with them while Simone and her dad were at the store buying beers in every flavor, too many ribs, too much chicken, and just enough portabellos. When Simone finally got back and walked out to the pool, wearing that infectious smile of hers, suddenly, nobody looked quite as tan anymore. I didn't look tan to begin with. I haven't been out in the sun at all this year, so when I was in the pool, I could hear the skin on my forehead and shoulders start to sizzle and pop. At night, seven of us drove a million miles to a vineyard on the Pennsylvania border to drink wine, watch fireworks, and get mosquito bites before going back to the house for drinking games and skinny dipping. Everyone stayed in the pool until they were nice and dizzy, then went back in the house to dry off and pass out. I started off sleeping on the couch, but wound up on the floor. (The details remain sketchy). Simone's dad used to be in the restaurant business, and so we had another huge spread at breakfast. I listened as the girls complained about boys. The creeps, the players, the bores, and the ambiguously gay. "Where are all the good ones?" they said. Good question, ladies, good question.