If the ring fits.

I've been on hiatus. I was alone for the entire month of June, with the exception of a weekend with Mom and MaMa here at the beach. Dolly and I are now candidates for advanced skin cancer from the amount of sunbathing we've done in the last three months.
The old man flew in for a couple of weeks over July 4th. We enjoyed all of the tri-county fireworks from Hilton Head up to Parris Island with the rest of the locals down at the fort on Land's End.
After he left, we fell into a routine of dragging our camelbak and lounge chair to the same tree everyday at the park. That's when a certain someone started to notice we weren't here on vacation. We saw the same guy everyday for a week--as he began to park himself closer and closer to our set-up. I'm not 17 anymore, well 15 for that matter, so looking for a beach boyfriend / summer romance is not on my mind. Despite the fact that I look like a leathered Grandmother, this guy still thought he had a chance. Finally he got the courage to spark a conversation (what was his ice breaker? Dolly, of course.) When I mentioned my husband, his face fell in disappointment and defeat. After retreating to his own towel down the beach, I felt certain we'd never see him again.
Wrong.
Several weeks later, after a short trip to see Beth and MaMa, we headed back to the park for some sun.
Above my Ray-Bans, I spotted a familiar physique walking toward our set-up. I reassured myself that it wasn't him, and went back to reading my So What! magazine.
I was wrong...it was the same guy. We waited for him to pass and packed our things to head to the truck. I thought, maybe he's just back for vacation again. No worries, we'll wait a few days and he'll be gone again.
We wait, watch a few Netflix, and try a park day one more time. Suddenly our relaxing day with Paul Simon on the ipod is over when my radar spots him yet again.
He's well on his way, straight to our digs. We do our best to stay calm and pretend we didn't see him--I pack up and head home again.
Now, the old man thinks all of this is funny--that some old, fat, married Roseanne-type woman like myself could possibly spark the interest of some young,buff, buck strolling the beach in hopes of some NSA fling. I scoffed and told him that maybe, just maybe...I've still got it. Well..I've got something, even if it's just being someone's missed connection.