326. Once Upon Another Time

"Can I talk to you two for a moment?" Marvin asked, pulling Cayden and I aside into my parents's dining room. 

It was exactly one week after Cayden had landed in Texas and we started our lives together. It was also our marriage day. Not to be confused with our wedding day, which we set for October 20. The sooner we were legally married, the sooner Cayden could file his paperwork and the sooner he could start looking for work.

"OK, I know you don't want to make this a big deal because you want it to be special for your wedding next month," he started. The sparkle of his diamond earrings matched the sparkle of his smile and the excitement in his eyes. "But this is a big deal. Today you're getting married, and that's something to treasure. Cayden, SHE is something to treasure."

We nodded in agreement and Cayden gave me a sideways smile. We'd hoped to have Marvin come over to hear us say "I do" and then sign our papers and that was it. He was right, I wanted to save the emotional part for our wedding day. 

Marvin turned his attention to Cayden. 

"You are marrying into the most wonderful family. They are something special. Today is special," he said. "So I'm going to say those things out there in front of her family, and then we'll have cake and punch and we'll celebrate."

I squeezed Cayden's hand.

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

"Let's do this," Cayden chimed in. 

With that, Marvin gathered my family and our five dogs outside. Cayden and I stood facing each other in front of the flowering bushes next to the pool, wearing the same outfits we were wearing the night we met. I wanted to save my wedding dress for the actual wedding, but I still wanted my "marriage" dress to mean something. 

It was almost like the outdoor wedding I'd planned originally for June, except it was 75 degrees instead of 105. A perfect day to get married. 

Marvin’s voice rose over the sound of the breeze through the trees and the trickle of the water from the hot tub’s stone edge. No matter what song he’s singing, his voice always gave me goosebumps.

As much as I love hearing people sing, I hate being sung to. When people sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me it takes everything I have not to crawl under the table and stab them all in the shins with my fork. What are you supposed to do? Sing along? Dance? Who do you look at? Everyone? No one? The candles burning on the cake? It’s awkward. And that ‘Happy Birthday’ song is about 10 versus too long.

But Marvin wasn’t singing happy birthday. There wasn’t a table to crawl under and I didn’t want to stab Marvin with a fork because I didn’t want his yelp to interrupt the magic that was coming from his vocal cords. There were no candles to look at. So instead, I focused my gaze on Cayden. My candle. And for the first time, I didn’t mind being sung to. I let his lyrics wrap around me while I took in my soon-to-be husband’s eyes, his lips, the slight gap in his teeth.

Cayden, on the other hand, never tore his gaze from Marvin. Either he felt awkward, too, and decided to just stare at one person, or he was hypnotized by Marvin’s love song, but I could have been floating face down in the pool and he wouldn’t have noticed.

I heard mom sniffle behind me and I was momentarily distracted when my dog Joey came up to sniff around our feet. Before Marvin started his speech, I thought I wasn’t going to cry. I thought this would just be a quick exchange of ‘I dos’ followed by a signature on the marriage license. I thought I’d save all of my emotions for our wedding next month.

But then I remembered what I’d been preaching all along. It’s not about the wedding or the dress or the three-tiered cake. It’s not about the perfectly matched bouquets or the music or the first dance. It’s about the marriage. It’s about love. It’s about me and Cayden, and the promise that we’ll always be there for each other. It’s about family. My mom and dad and sisters and brother behind me, they were my family, but now Cayden would be my family. My husband. My everything.

And somewhere between “we are gathered here today” and “lawfully wedded wife,” I let myself feel it. THIS is how brides feel on their wedding day. This is our big day. Tears spilled over my eyes and ran down my cheeks and I didn’t care. Cayden’s voice wavered and I could tell he was letting himself feel it, too. The sniffles from my mom and sisters grew more frequent.

The stress and the struggle and the heartache of the last three years washed away with those tears.

“And by the power vested in me by the State of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

I closed my eyes as his lips touched mine and I was brought back to that night we met. The night we kissed at the bar. Before we even knew each other. Before we’d understood the power of love and the crazy shit it can make you do. Before we knew what our hearts and minds could and couldn’t withstand. Before the missed flights and lonely nights. Before airport goodbyes and hellos. Before visa refusals and government paperwork.

Before we believed in fairytales.

“This will all be worth it one day,” we used to say to each other when things were particularly shitty.

This was that day. 

It would be way too cheesy and cliché to end this post with “and they lived happily every after” or “and that’s how I got my fairytale ending,” so I won’t. Besides, I still don’t buy into that whole “happily ever after” thing by Disney’s standards. I’m sure there will be unhappy days and days I’ll want to be as far away from him as physically possible. And there will be days he’ll want to send me away on a trip with my girlfriends so he can have three days of peace and quiet. And days where I’ll throw shoes at him and blame him for all the world’s problems.

And then there will be a days that we fall asleep in each other's arms after a long night over good wine. There will be days we celebrate birthday and holidays and job promotions together. And there will be a day that we’ll look into our baby’s eyes for the first time, and all of those days I wanted to strangle him will wash away in my tears yet again.

I don’t think marriage is going to be any easier than our three-year long-distance relationship, because marriage isn’t easy no matter how you look at it. Hell, life isn’t easy, but having someone to live it with makes it taste oh, so much better.

But if our marriage is filled with even half of the love, passion and understanding the past three years have been defined by, it will be happily ever after indeed. So I don’t see marriage as my “fairytale ending” but more as a new beginning. Call it another fairytale beginning if you’d like.

Once upon a time I married the man of my dreams and then went straight to a beer festival where I couldn’t drink much because I was on painkillers and couldn’t even have sex that night because I’d just had an ovarian cyst removed.

That's how all good fairytales start, right?

325. Surprise

Cayden thought I'd be the only one picking him up from the airport yesterday. Instead, this happened:

Friends, family, coworkers and even a handful of my blog readers came out to surprise him. I wanted to write a blog post to invite all of you, but Cayden had Wi-Fi on his plane and he told me he needed to catch up on the blog. It's nearly impossible to keep anything a secret these days with social media.

Needless to say, I was excited.

And he was surprised.

Cayden, me, Shanna and Ronnie

I've never been happier. I woke up this morning in paid from too much laugher last night, and it's totally worth it. Six days until we're legally married.

At 11:11 this morning, I didn't know what to wish for.

324. Surreal

I didn't understand the word "surreal" until I read that email. And then I read it again. And again. And again, until I could convince myself that it was, in fact, real. Cayden is moving here in three days. THREE DAYS. Unless you're reading this on Thursday, in which case I can say CAYDEN WILL BE HERE IN TWO DAYS!

For the past three years I've spent so much of my time waiting--waiting for his next visit, waiting for his plane to land, waiting for our visa to get approved--that I'm having a hard time comprehending the fact that the wait is about to end. That whole 'good things come to those who wait a ridiculously long time' bit was about to actually live up to its promise.

Can you believe it? If you've been reading from the beginning, you've been through the ups and downs, the tears of joy and tears of heartache, right along with me for the past two years.... 324 posts. And it's all coming down to this... a happily ever after. Or so we hope.

And as you've been reading my story and geting to know us, I've been getting to know you. I talk to some of you so regularly on Twitter or via email that I forget we haven't met in person yet. You guys have been my support group whether you've known it or not, even if all you did was "like" one of my Facebook posts. I don't think I could have survived the emotional exhaustion of this long-distance relationship without a place to vent and people to commiserate with. I couldn't have done it without you.

So now I thank you for your tweets, your comments, your emails. I thank you for your letters to your congressmen, your words of wisdom, your shared stories. I thank you for staying up late with me, supporting me and cheering me on. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

Will I keep blogging once I get my fairytale ending?

Of course. Married life is going to be a whole new beginning. A fairytale beginning, perhaps.

OK, enough cheesy one-liners from me tonight. I blame it on the fact that I've lost hours and hours of sleep trying to get this blog caught up before our next chapter. Surgery in the morning and then I need all the beauty sleep I can get before Saturday.

Until my next update, enjoy these photos of us from the past couple years.

The night we met :)
July 3, 2009

My first trip to London
June 2010

Halloween 2010

Cayden's first OU football watch party.

Austin Trip

New Years Eve 2012

St Paddy's Day Parade 2012

Cozumel!

The day we left Cozumel

Not sure why my leg is all crazy in this one, but here we are with our new friends on our honeymoon! [From left to right: me, Cayden, david, Vicky, Courtney and Chandler]

323. To Those Who Wait

14 days.

15 days.

"I put in my two week's notice... again," Cayden said during our morning phone call on day 16. "My last day of work will be September 7th and I have my eye on a flight to Dallas on the 8th. Now let's just hope I get my visa and passport back before then. I don't really want to be unemployed longer than I have to."

"Good," I said. "I should be mostly recovered from surgery by then. If all goes as planned. I'm trying not to get my hopes up about you moving here on the 8th, but how awesome would that be?"

"I know," he said with a sigh. "I'd be there for my birthday."

"And my birthday," I added. "And OU-TX!"

My hopes were up.

Day 17.

The OR was fully booked, so my surgery was going to have to wait.

"How about September 6?" my doctor asked.

Oh, yes. Sign me up for that. Who wouldn't want surgery two days before their fiance moved in? My big plan to run and tackle him at the airport in the happiest moment of my life was looking less and less likely.

"Will I be able to walk by then?" I asked.

"...slowly. But no sex for 2 weeks."

Fuck me.

Day 18.

Day 19.

Day 20.

"Why in the hell do they say you'll have it back within 10 days when they clearly have no intention of doing so?" I whined. "This is getting ridiculous!"

"You're telling me."

Day 21.

Day 22.

Day 23.

My blood started to boil.

"So, when's he moving here? When's the wedding?" people asked.

"I wish I knew," was my only response.

We couldn't set a wedding date because we didn't know exactly when he'd be here. If we set a date in October and he moved here in September, he'd be unemployed for four months instead of three. My credit card balance didn't like the idea of that. Not one bit.

"What if we do a quick JP wedding right when you get here?" I offered. "That way you can get your paperwork filed and then we can plan a wedding for October or November."

"That might be our best bet," he said.

"And that way we'll be sure I'm 100 percent recovered from surgery by the time I walk down the aisle. And hopefully you'll have your Employment Authorization documents by December."

A plan was set in motion. No, it wasn't ideal. It wasn't the way we planned for things to happen, but we'd learned very early on in our relationship that when it's up to the government, it's best to have zero plans.

Day 24.

Day 25.

Day 26.

This is getting ridiculous.

Day 27.

Day 28.

Day 29.

"Surely, they can't keep your passport from you for that long, right? I mean, that's a pretty important legal document."

"They can do whatever they want," he replied. "They're the US Government."

I wanted to punch Mitt Romney through the TV screen with his "Let's keep America American" bullshit. It was like he was taunting me, rubbing salt in an open wound, sticking his tongue out and dangling immigration papers just out of my reach. Ass.

Day 30.

Day 31.

Day 32. I woke up to an email from Cayden.

from:		xxxx911@hotmail.com (Cayden)
to:		xxxxxxwp@gmail.com (me)
date:		Mon, Sep 3, 2012 at 7:45 AM
subject:		Good Morning

Good Morning baby

So, check out the below. Yes, that right there is my one-way plane ticket to come and live with you FOREVER!!!!  I have the visa in my hand right now.  If you weren't excited before, get excited now because it's HAPPENING THIS WEEK!!!!

I'm so happy right now.

Well, I'll chat later

Love you lots

322. Demon Baby

Nine days later. 

No word. 

Ten. 

Eleven. 

Twelve. 

Thirteen. 

Nothing.

"So, isn't your fiance moving here soon?" my doctor asked. I was at my annual wellness exam and my doctor loved to catch up on the status of my roller coaster of a relationship. "There's got to be a wedding soon, right?"

"Well, that's a funny story," I started, and then filled her in on the honeymoon and the email and the latest non-happenings. It made for good small talk while my legs were propped up in stirrups. 

"Wait. What's this?" she asked, pushing against my lower abdomen. 

Ummm, it better not be a fucking baby, I thought to myself. 

Wouldn't that just throw a twist into an already overly dramatic storyline? I started to laugh at the thought of it, but the look of concern on my doctor's face told me it might not be a time for jokes. 

"I can't tell if that's your ovary or something else. Let's get you in for an ultrasound today."

AN ULTRASOUND? LIKE, FOR A BABY?

My heart started to race. I was afraid to ask any questions because I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answers. Wouldn't I have noticed if I was pregnant? Didn't I still have an IUD in there standing guard against my babymakers?

I stared at the garbled mess on the ultrasound screen and attempted to see something. Anything. Was that an alien? Was that whole Twilight: Breaking Dawn demon baby thing coming true?

"What is it?" I finally got the courage to ask. I fought the urge to cover my ears before she replied. 

"Looks like you have a 12 centimeter ovarian cyst and you need surgery to remove it. Like now."

Now, aside from "you're pregnant with a demon baby" and "it turns out, you were born a male," this is the last thing a bride-to-be wants to hear when her fiance could be moving there any day. 

"I'm going out of town the last week of August, so I want to do the surgery before then," she said. "How does next week look for you?"

For the second time in two weeks, I was dumbfounded. Speechless. 

And with the honeymoon, surgery and a wedding to pay for, I was in serious need of a winning lottery ticket. 

321. One Missed Call

We didn't hear back that week.

We went into week 16 filled with hope and frustration. Cayden went back to checking his email every 7 seconds and I went back to asking Cayden to check his email every 7 seconds. I called Congressman Pete Session's office. His assistant called me back and said it was still in additional processing. I thanked her and asked her where the nearest baby unicorn was so I could punch it.

I fell asleep with my phone in my hand and woke up in the same position. I told Cayden to call me the moment he got the email, even if it was 3 am in Texas. Every time my phone rang for our normal morning phone calls, my heart would skip a beat. Maybe this would be the call.

Hey, baby. I'm out a the pub for lunch so I can't call during our normal time, but I'll try to call you a little bit later.

I hated when our schedules didn't sync up. Sometimes we only got one phone call a day, so if we missed it, we might not get to talk until the next day. And sometimes that made my blood boil. This was going to be one of those days. I hit reply:

I'm going into work early, so we probably won't get to have our phone call today :( 

It was the week after we'd returned from our honeymoon and I was still playing catch up at work. It didn't help that my director was about to be on maternity leave.

I drove to work in a crappy mood. I'd woken up thinking it was Friday, but then realized it was only Thursday AND I didn't get to have my morning call with Cayden. Everyone on the road was being as asshole and the commercials on the radio made me want to track down the Mattress Giant's President Christine Cook and shake her as hard as physically possible until she promised she'd never record another commercial as long as she lived.

Just leaving the pub. Is it too late to call?

I was walking into my office building and contemplated sitting outside for a quick call, but then decided I'd just take the call at my desk because no one would be in the office yet anyway.

I can talk for a bit. 

I was trying to keep my bad attitude out of my text message, but I was peeved.

"Hey baby," he said when I picked up the phone. His voice immediately soothed my nerves.

"Hey, how was your pub lunch?" I tried to keep my voice down because my coworker Olsen was already plugging away at this desk.

"Well, I think I had one too man drinks. I feel a little buzzed."

"Why are you drunk before 2pm on a Thursday? Don't you have to go back to work?" I was confused. Was it actually Friday? The thought perked me up.

"Well, I was celebrating," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Celebrating what? That it's Friday? Is it Friday? Oh my god, I have no idea what day it is. I give up." I threw my hands up and jabbed the power button on my laptop.

"Celebrating the email. I got the email."

I typed my password into my computer and waited for it to start up. It took a full five seconds before I realized what Cayden had said. The email. THE email. THE EMAIL??

"YOU WHAT?" I demanded.

"I GOT THE EMAIL," he yelled into the phone. "THE email!"

My jaw dropped. Tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn't move. I couldn't respond.

"Are you there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I choked out, thick with tears. It all came rushing over me. All of the emotions. All of the waiting. All of the additional processing. All of the frustrations. Tears splattered against my keyboard and I didn't bother to wipe them up.

"Why didn't you call me???" I demanded. Olson popped his head up from his cube to check on me. I gave him a thumbs up, despite my tears disheveled appearance. He had gathered enough context from my end of the conversation to know what had just happened. His eyes lit up with genuine happiness and relief.

"I didn't want to wake you," Cayden laughed. "Can you believe it?.... Whitney, are you there?"

I was battling the silent tears. I tried to respond but I couldn't figure out how to make my vocal cords function. I was speechless. I was stunned. I may have even been in some form of shock. I just nodded against the phone and hoped he could hear it.

"Aww, baby, don't cry."

"I'm trying not to," I lied. I didn't have the emotional strength to even attempt to stop those tears.

"What did the email say," I asked, when I could find the words.

"That they're ready to process my visa and that I need to call the courrier to come get my passport. From that point, I should get my passport back with my visa within 9 days!"

It was Thursday, August 2nd. Exactly 16 weeks since his visa had been refused. In nine days he'd have it in his hand. Nine days until forever.

"But it does say that it still may need more additional processing," he added. "But I think they have to put that in everyone's email, just as a precaution. I already called the courrier and they're picking my passport up tomorrow. Baby... it's finally happening."

"How the hell am I supposed to work today? I need to go home! I need to start replanning our wedding! I need to buy men's body wash for our shower! I need to clean. I have so much to do!"

It's safe to say I was losing my damn mind.

Cayden laughed at my emotional breakdown. I laughed, too, and then I stepped outside to call everyone and anyone who would listen. Starting with my mom.

"MOM? HE GOT THE EMAIL!"

320. Lucky Number 7?

After eight days in paradise, it was time to say goodbye for the last time.... again. I begged the time to stand still. I pleaded for someone to invent time travel before we had to part ways again. I wanted to relive our honeymoon all over again because every single moment of it had been absolutely amazing, and I couldn't stand the thought of watching him walk away from me again.

We ate our breakfast slowly and left plenty of time to sip our coffee and enjoy our last few hours together.

"I think we'll hear back this week," Cayden said, nodding assuredly.

"We've thought that every week," I whined. "I can't get my hopes up again. So I'm just going to assume we won't hear back on the the very last day of week 22. But at least that's only 7 weeks away."

I tried to sound optimistic, but the thought of going another 7 weeks without him made it hard to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I took another swig of coffee and gazed out at the calm, empty pool.

"I know this is going to sound weird, but I think I'm going to miss our new friends, too," I said. "We definitely have to invite them to the wedding."

"For sure," Cayden agreed. "Don't worry, we'll take a road trip out to Monroe, Louisiana. I have to see where this Duck Dynasty show you all were talking about takes place."

I smiled and nodded, but my mood was already heading south. I wanted to drag Cayden back up to our room and hide under the sheets with him and hope no one found us. But instead, we had to gather our bags and head to the taxi stand.

It just so happened that our new friends had a layover in Dallas and we were all on the same flight. If anything, that would make this final goodbye slightly more tolerable. At least I wouldn't be the lonely girl crying at the airport. I'd be the girl crying at the airport amongst new friends. Or maybe I wouldn't cry. Maybe I could find a way to lock it up for the final goodbye.

The six of us piled in the airport shuttle and I plastered myself against Cayden. Everyone was mostly quiet, either because they were recovering from the previous night's boozefest or because they felt awkward knowing they were about to get stuck with the crying girl.

The moment I saw the ferry dock out the taxi window, I tightened my squeeze on Cayden. It was his stop. He'd have to take the ferry to Playa del Carmen and take another taxi to the airport in Cancun. The driver pulled over, and I told him not to leave me while I said my goodbyes. Cayden shook hands with our new friends and we all made promises to be Facebook friends as soon as we all had free Internet access.

I stepped out of the taxi with Cayden and wrapped my arms around his neck. There was no swallowing that lump in my throat. It nearly choked me. As I'd done so many times before, I buried my face in Cayden's shirt and let it absorb my tears. He squeezed me hard.

"I don't want to let go," he whispered against my cheek.

"Neither do I," I mumbled into his shirt.

"This couldn't have been more amazing. And one day soon our life together is going to be amazing. I can't wait."

"Seven weeks," I whispered. I couldn't manage to talk full volume with the tightness in my throat. "Seven weeks tops. And then it's forever."

He pried my face off his soggy shirt and kissed me. "And then it's forever."

I'd survived 3 years long-distance. I could handle another 7 weeks. At least that's the pep talk I gave myself as waved at him through the window.

319. Bright Blue Strip and Tequila Shots

If you made it to the bright blue strip, you've gone to far. 

I glanced around me and saw nothing but bright blue. In a moment of panic, I let go of the acceleration and almost launched myself forward off the jet ski.

And whatever you do, don't let the jet ski come to a complete stop.

Shit. I twisted the handle and sent the jet ski skidding across the water. Cayden flew past me in the dark blue water, the safe area, with a giant smile across his face. He was clearly enjoying jet skiing as much as I used to back before I fell off one in college, jacking my hip against the side and internally bruising it for the next year. 

I wanted to stop and enjoy the scenery, the fish swimming below us, the wispy clouds above us, but I was scared to death at what would happen if I let the jet ski come to a stop. Would it spontaneously combust? Sink? Electrocute me? I should have asked for more information, but interpreting the Spanglish was getting exhausting. 

"I THINK I'M GOING TO GO IN," I yelled to Cayden as we passed each other. 

"WHAT?"

"I'M GOING IN. I'M DONE. FINITO."

"PARDON?"

I pointed to myself and then to the shore, hoping he'd get the picture. Now, where was I supposed to park this thing? I let the jet ski idle while I maneuvered it around the snorkelers. I was desperate to get off that death trap. We'd rented the jet skis for a half an hour, was I was done after 15 minutes. I waved my arms at the ski shop attendants in bright orange shorts. 

"NO MAS PARA MI," I called. They waved me in and helped pull my jet ski up onto the sand. 

"Fun?" one of the men asked as I handed him my life vest. 

"A blast!" I lied. I needed a drink. 

Cayden pulled up alongside my jet ski and hopped off. 

"That was amazing," he said. "I can't believe it's already been 30 minutes. That time flew by!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd chickened out early and he still had $30 worth of jet skiiing left. 

---

"Let's go into town!" Courtney said when we regrouped in front of their room. "We've been on this resort all week. Let's go to town so we can at least say we did."

The six of us piled in a taxi van and headed off for an adventure in Cozumel's main square. The square was lined with litte gift shops and jewelry stores, and the store owners called out to us like the creepy kiosk workers in the mall. 

"T shirts!"

"Silver!"

"Shot glasses!"

"Sapphires!"

"FREE TEQUILA SHOTS!"

Free tequila shots? Did we hear him correctly? Our ears perked up. You can't turn down free tequila in Mexico, right? Can't you get thrown in a sketchy Mexican prison for something like that? We all agreed that it was better to accept the free shot than to risk a life sentence behind bars. 

The store we'd been beckoned into was a jewelry store/liquor store hybrid. One man behind the glass-walled jewelry display case tried to sell Vicky a necklace while another man poured the shots. It was a genius marketing scheme. I bet jewelers in the states would make more money if they served free tequila shots on the sales floor. 

"Cuanto cuesta?" I asked after the after burn of the shot faded from my nose, eyes and throat. It wasn't an intense burn like the kind you get from cheap tequila; it was the dull burn of a good tequila that signals that the alcohol had already made it into your bloodstream. 

The man held up the bottle and said, "Sesenta dolares."

Sixty dollars?? It wasn't THAT good. Suddenly, I was in the mood to bargain. I shook my head and laughed so he'd know there was no way in hell I was going to dish out that kind of money for a bottle of sub par tequila. I noticed that he'd already started wrapping the bottle in brown paper, determined to make his sale.

"How much you have?" he asked. 

"Twenty. Veinte," I answered. 

This time it was his turn to shake his head and laugh.

""Fifty," he countered. 

"Twenty." I stood firm on my price and started backing toward the door. 

He took the paper-wrapped bottle and put it in a plastic bag. 

"Forty."

"Twenty." I wasn't going to budge from 20. I took two more steps toward the door and he followed. 

"Thirty," he said. This was too easy. 

"Twenty."

"Twenty-three." This one almost threw me for a loop. What was an extra $3 to him? Courtney tried to offer me $3 so I could make the purchase, but I brushed her off. Everyone else was watching, highly entertained by the auction. 

"Twenty." I held the $20 bill between us. 

"Twenty," he said, swiping my $20 with more than a little attitude and pushing the bag of tequila in my hand. I stepped out triumphantly. The trip to town was a success. 

318. Full Moons

She didn't call. In fact, she never called back. And we didn't pursue it.

We took it as a sign that we needed to wait. Needed to keep waiting. Besides, we would have had to reapply for a spouse visa and start the whole process over, which would have been my nightmare. And at least we'd always have our fake beach-side wedding with our new friends to look back on.

That week marked 15 weeks since Cayden's visa had been refused. The Embassy said it could take 16-22 weeks at the longest, so there was a chance we'd hear back at any moment. We checked his email every day, in hopes that we'd get the word that our wait would one day soon come to an end. Until then, the unlimited margaritas would help pass the time.

We spent our days lounging on rafts in the relaxation pool or attempting drunken crossword puzzles by the beach. The sun baked our skin until we were both a dark shade of caramel. I was in heaven, and I never wanted to leave.

"Who wants to go for a swim?" David asked one night, pulling his shirt over his head before any of us had answered. We were all standing on the beach in front of Courtney and Chandler's room. The next thing I knew, his stark white butt was running toward the water.

We all looked at each other and shrugged. Vicky, Courtney and I stripped down to our bras and thongs, and I'd never been more grateful for the seven months of yoga I'd done. Chandler and Cayden jumped in with just their boxers. At some point Chandler ditched his boxers as well because there were two full moons in the water and one crescent moon overhead. Cayden pulled me against him and kissed me, and I couldn't help but think about the scene in Twilight: Breaking Dawn when Bella and Edward go skinny dipping under the stars on their honeymoon. But unlike Breaking Dawn, I didn't wake up the next day pregnant with a demon baby.

----

On the fifth night, Cayden started to feel the effects of our all-day binge drinking. Luckily, I came prepared with every type of nausea/heartburn/anti-diarrhea/constipation/etc medicine known to man. I didn't want to risk either one of us to spending one second of our honeymoon with a case of the shits. We'd learned our lesson after the food poisoning incident in 2010 when we both thew up jalapenos out our noses.

So that night we filled his belly with crackers, Tums and a combination of other goodies from my magic medicine bag and spent a sober night in, curled up next to each other in bed. We talked about our trip and how we wanted to rent jet skis and go into town before we left. We talked about how wedding and how we had to find a way to make room for our new friends on the invite list. We laughed about Chandler wiping out on the catamaran and about how so many people had heard our story on Kidd Kraddick's Love Letters to Kellie.

The only English channel on the TV was playing Zathura, a crappy space movie for little kids starring The Hunger Games's own Josh Hutcherson, in which he plays a little bitch like he does in most of his movies. Zathura was like a poor man's Jumanji. Cayden fell asleep before the riveting turning point, and I stayed awake just so I could tell him how it ended. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

317. PDA

Sex on the pier under the stars sounded a lot more romantic than it actually was. Or maybe we're just not as coordinated as others. My shoulder blades dug into the hard, damp wooden planks as Cayden rocked against me. I felt a splinter making its way into my spine. Cayden winced as his knee slid into the gap between two planks.

"This isn't working, is it?" I asked looking up at him, a look of defeat in his eyes.

"What if we..." he started to say, and then flipped me over on my stomach and pulled me up on my hands and knees. I tried to ignore the pain of my knees bruising against the wood. I had to keep my core tight to keep from sliding forward and face planting.

"Yeah, not working," he finally said, and we both collapsed on our backs next to each other. "My hips hurt. When did we turn into fragile elderly people, anyway?"

"Good question," I said, remembering the scrapes and bruises still fresh on my knees and arms from our waterslide adventure a few days before. "But considering our old age and the fact that we've been drinking non-stop for three days, I'm surprised we haven't experienced one of those I'm-not-a-college-student-anymore hangovers. Those are the worst."

"I wonder why that is. Maybe we're sleeping through our hangovers?" He scratched at his right collarbone, the way he always did when he was contemplating or devising a new theory.

"This is pretty amazing, though, isn't it?"

I felt Cayden give me a sideways glance.

"No, not that," I said, trying to untangle my panties from my ankle. "This." I waved my hand out across the star-filled sky. "This," I said again, gesturing to the two of us.

"Amazing doesn't even describe it."

"Whoa," I said, sitting up too fast.

"What?" he answered, looking alarmed.

"I just realize that was the first time we've had sex anywhere other than a bed or the shower. Well, the shower barely counts because I can never keep my balance."

He scratched his collarbone a little harder while he thought. How was it possible that we'd been together more than two years and hadn't ever had adventurous sex? Probably because our time together was limited and we both had roommates.

"What's the weirdest place you've ever had sex?" I asked, suddenly realizing I didn't know many details of his past sex life beyond the fact that he used to be quite the little man whore in his military years.

"Hotel stairwell in New York," he said, a grin spread across his face.

NYC? Was this during the same trip he met me?

"Oh, no. Not that trip," he said, reading the curious look on my face. "My first trip to NYC. Hotel stairwell on New Years Eve. I was wearing a party hat and we didn't even bother undressing. I bet we looked ridiculous." He laughed and shook his head at the memory.

I laughed, too, as I tried to picture it, which is probably a weird reaction to have when you picture your future husband banging another woman. But I could just picture him with a big sparkly top hat that said 'Happy New Year' and a look on his face that said, 'is this really happening? The guys are never going to believe this.'

"What about you?" he asked. "Weirdest place you ever had sex. Go."

"Rooftop of my apartment in the East Village in NYC."

"Doesn't sound much more comfortable than this." He knocked on the wood next to him.

"I brought a yoga mat," I said with a grin.

He looked proud of me for being so prepared. Both of us were wishing we'd brought yoga mats or at least a towel onto the pier.

We sat there quietly for a moment, listening to the water lap against the wooden posts. Our minds were both here and there, enjoying the moment but also imagining what our future would be like. I couldn't believe I was on my honeymoon with such an intelligent, sexy and respectful man, and he was about to be mine forever.

"Do you think she called???" I blurted, as soon as I remembered the conversation we'd had with the wedding planner.

"Only one way to find out," Cayden said, pushing himself up to a standing position and pulling me up with him. "Let's order room service. Dessert and red wine. And then, whether she called or not, let's celebrate another incredible day with some non-adventurous king-sized bed sex."

It was oddly the most romantic thing he could have said.

316. Blessed

"Mom?" I asked, trying to keep the drunk out of my voice. "How mad would you be if Cayden and I got married while we were here?"

I wasn't sure what I was expecting her to say. Maybe I expected her to talk me out of it. Maybe I was expecting her to yell at me for wasting money on a long-distance phone call to ask such a ridiculous question. But I definitely wasn't expecting this:

"Not mad at all! We want him here as badly as you do. Do whatever you have to do to make that happen."

I almost squealed into the phone. I nodded to Cayden and gave him a thumbs up.

It was just after the sunset snorkel cruise that we decided we had to get married. We were standing on the dock, watching the sun set between the storm clouds. A group of girls walked by behind us singing "Love letters! Love letters to Kellie!" Turns out, it wasn't just Vicky who'd heard me on the radio.

"So what exactly do you have to do to make that happen?" Mom asked.

"I actually don't have a clue. We're going to ask around and see what all we need. I don't know if we need our birth certificates or if we can just throw back some shots and find a fake Elvis to marry us like they do in Vegas."

Surely I could find a fake Elvis in Cozumel. A fake Mexican Elvis. Si. Si, senior.

"Well, you have our blessing." I heard Dad give a "woo-hoo" in the background and I could almost picture him doing a fist pump. My parents rock.

Cayden kissed me before I could hang up the phone. I'd been on a high for a full three days. Cayden was feeling the same way I was. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his carefree laugh. I started to wonder if that's how I'd feel every day when Cayden and I could finally live together. Or maybe it was the effects of the romantic setting mixed with various alcoholic beverages that was making me feel that way.

--

"So... we want to get married. How can we make that happen?"

We were sitting across from the hotel's wedding planner in the lobby before dinner. A surprised look crossed her face before she opened her binder and ruffled through some papers.

"How long are you staying?" she asked.

"We leave in 5 days," Cayden answered, squeezing my hand in excitement.

"Let me call the judge and see what I can do," the wedding planner said. "It used to be that you could get married on a whim here, like people do in Vegas, but the marriage laws here changed recently and it could take up to a month to get a marriage certificate."

My heart dropped. I needed another margarita, STAT. Cayden sighed and patted my leg.

"But like I said, let me call the judge and then I'll call your room and tell you what he said."

All that night, through dinner with our favorite new friends and a night of dancing to 90s music at the beach-side bar, I couldn't wait to get back to our room to check our messages.

But that was going to have to wait until we had sex on the pier under the stars.

315. Come Sail Away with Me

There's something both beautiful and disconcerting about being on a on a sailboat while lightning is striking all around you. Bright sky and sunshine above, dark clouds and blinding flashes of lightning to the left, right and straight ahead. 

"Cerveza o margarita?" 

My attention was diverted from the ominous weather to the plastic, sweaty cups of liquid sunshine in front of me. 

"Margarita. Gracias," I said to the hispanic man behind the bar on deck. 

I titled my head back and let the sun sting my cheeks as I swallowed the cold, tangy drink. 

"I need to drink until my body stops hurting," Courtney said. We all nodded in agreement.

All six of us had woken up that morning with bruises, scrapes and body aches in our shoulders, arms and hips. Courtney and Vicky had burns on their hip bones. My hipbones came away unscathed thanks to "curves." Turns out, the pool slide was no match for drunken twenty-somethings. 

"Let's buy that one," I said, pointing across the water to what looked like an abandoned resort. The colorful walls were closing in on each other and the grass roof had deteriorated in parts, leaving gaps for sunshine, rain and anything else that wanted in. 

"Yeah, we can fix it up and call it..." Cayden said, struggling to come up with a name that combined all of our last names. 

"It can't be that expensive, right?" Vicky asked. 

Surely not, I thought to myself. I leaned into Cayden as I pictured the six living right there on the beach. Instead of cars we'd have scooters, jet skis and stand-up paddle boards. We'd have hammocks everywhere. And maybe we'd even have a slide that goes into the ocean. A padded slide. And, of course, we'd have to hire a full-time bartender. That would be the life. 

"Secure your life vests and grab your snorkel gear!" 

I tightened the strap around my waist and look curiously at the strap dangling between my legs. Surely that's not supposed to go up my butt, right? A quick glance around proved me wrong. I chugged the rest of my margarita and reached down to secure the strap in its awkward position. 

"How ridiculous do I look?" I asked after pressing my goggles against my face until my eyes bulged. The snorkel dangled next to my right ear. 

Cayden turned around with the snorkel already in his mouth, making his lips bulge out worse than his eyes. I couldn't stop myself from laughing. We both looked ridiculous. 

The lightning died down by the time the boat stopped at our first snorkel site. Good thing. I wasn't in the mood to be electrocuted on my honeymoon. 

Cayden and I held hands as we jumped off the side of the boat and into the crystal blue water. Beneath me, colorful fish and plant life drifted about as if we weren't there, flailing and kicking around in their peaceful home. A giant crab poked out of a crevice in the reef. 

"Cayden, look!" I mumbled into my snorkel. I looked to my right. Then my left. Cayden was nowhere to be seen. I came up from the water and removed my foggy goggles. Way behind me, I spotted Cayden. Actually, I heard him before I saw him. He was coughing up salt water and struggling with his face mask. 

"Babe, are you OK?" I asked as I got closer. 

"I keep breathing in water," he said. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was red. 

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't hide it. 

"How are you breathing in water? Your nose is in your mask and your mouth is attached to a snorkel. Are you putting the snorkel under water?" 

"No," he said, shaking his head and draining his snorkel. "I just put my head under and try to breath."

He dipped under water for a demonstration and came up hacking and coughing, which caused me to nearly die of laughter. Big, bad Cayden couldn't figure out how to use a snorkel. 

"Poor thing," I said between laughs. 

While he struggled with the snorkel, I struggled with the life vest straps. Whose idea was it to put a strap between your legs that yanks UP when you jump in the water. I felt molested. 

"Hey, babe," I said, clinging onto Cayden to relieve some of the pressure in my life vest (i.e. crotch). "Isn't there some kind of rule about getting married in international waters? Aren't boat captains prepared to do that?"

I was basing my theory off an episode of How I Met Your Mother. 

"I think you might be onto something," Cayden said, but I was pretty sure he was also basing his answer on the same episode. 

Suddenly, getting married was all I wanted to do. Even with a strap up my ass and Cayden choking and blowing snot bubbles, I wanted to say I do. 

314. Or Forever Hold Your Peace

We stumbled out of the restaurant that night with our bellies full of beef tenderloin and cannoli and our minds full of wonder at what else the week would bring. It was only our first full day at the resort, and I felt like I'd been there for the better part of a week.

"Wow," Cayden said under his breath. I looked up and followed his gaze until I, too, was wowing.

"It's beautiful."

Just before the wooden deck dropped off to the sand ahead of us stood a single white gazebo. Beyond that, dark waters reflecting the moon's glow pushed and pulled at the edge of the beach. I looked up and saw more stars than I'd ever seen at one time. I couldn't look away.

Cayden looped his arm through mine and I let him guide me toward the beach without peeling my eyes from the star-speckled sky.

"You've made me so proud." I stopped abruptly as I realized it wasn't Cayden I was walking with. It was David and he was patting my hand. What the...

"So so proud."

I looked to Cayden for help and I found him under the gazebo, his eyes glued to me with a mischievous grin. Chandler was just behind him and to his right, standing tall with his hands crossed behind his back. Courtney and Vicky were to my right, facing me, flanked on one side of the gazebo. I took another step forward and it clicked. I was walking down the aisle.

I squeezed David's arm in excitement, the way I imagine I'd squeeze my dad's arm as he walked me down the aisle. I'd waited for this moment for so long. I'd always wondered what it would feel like to see Cayden at the end of the aisle waiting for me. My heart slammed against my chest. One step closer. And another. And another.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" Chandler asked, waving one arm toward Cayden. Cayden stood tall and smiled.

"Her father does," David answered.

"Very well."

David kissed me on the cheek and held my hand out to meet Cayden's. The muscles behind my ears started to throb from the strength of the smile spread across my face.

Cayden took both of my hands in his as we stood facing each other.

"Dearly beloved," Chandler began. "We are gathered together here in the sight of the sun gods, and in the face of this beautiful all-inclusive resort full of bottomless drinks and beautiful people, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

I felt downright giddy.

"Who has the rings?" Chandler whispered sternly to my bridesmaids.

"Shit," I said. "I do!"

I pulled my ring off my finger and handed it over Chandler.

"Sorry," I whispered to Cayden. "I totally didn't bring your ring. It's on my dresser. How about an I.O.U?"

"This ring is a circle," Chandler said, holding he ring up in front of his face for all of us to witness.

Cayden and I tried to stifle our laughs. Chandler was on a roll, and we didn't want to ruin a perfect moment.

"Hey babe?" Courtney said hesitantly. "I hate to interrupt...but I think there was shellfish in my dinner."

A concerned look washed over Chandler's face as he scanned his wife up and down, checking for signs of an allergic reaction.

"I feel things starting to swell."

Vicky took Courtney's arm and looked at us apologetically.

"I'll take her back to the room to get some Benadryl. David, that means you have to catch the bouquet."

Cayden and I looked at each other and laughed.

"Let's all go back," I offered. "I don't have my vows ready, anyway."

"Thank god," Cayden said with a sigh of relief. "I haven't even started writing mine."

He bent down and kissed me. "I don't know if our real wedding can beat this one," he said after he pulled away. "Well, minus the swelling bridesmaid."

Chandler handed me my ring and I slipped it back on my finger, which had felt abandoned and naked without it.

I leaned my head against Cayden's arm as we walked back to or room. Our fake wedding had been the perfect end to the most perfect day of my existence. How could it possibly get any better?

313. Slip n Slide

"You grab my leg and I'll grab yours," Chandler said. I didn't think twice before slipping down on my back and hooking one arm around his shin. With his head at my feet and my head at his, we created a human raft and allowed the current to force us down the curvy slide. We screamed and laughed as we swished back and forth, nearly spilling out the side of the slide and into the landscaping surrounding it. 

"Move!" we both screamed as we spotted David climbing up the slide just a few feet in front of us. He jumped and straddled the slide in just enough time for Chandler and I to fling through this legs and pour into the pool on the other side. We both came up laughing and sputtering water. I couldn't tell if his eyes were bloodshot from the chlorine or the numerous alcoholic beverages we'd consumed up until that point, but I was pretty sure mine looked the same. 

"Y'all almost nailed David!" Cayden, spilling some whisky and coke in the pool as he gestured toward the scene of the almost collision.

I stood on tiptoe and planted a big, wet kiss on his slick lips. 

I was having the time of my life. I couldn't remember a time I'd been happier. 

"Oh, you missed it," Cayden said. "Vicky went down that other slide on a raft and she flung off of it and into the bushes!"

"Oh my god." I couldn't believe I'd missed it. I lived for moments like that. "Where the hell did she get a raft?" Not that it really mattered. They weren't even allowed to be in the exclusive pool, but we were all about breaking rules. In fact, even though Cayden and I had exclusive wristbands, we weren't allowed to use the slides because we didn't have pool-terrace rooms. But like I said, we were rebellious rule breakers. 

We spent the next hour or so climbing back up the slide and flying down on our backs, our stomachs, and each other before we decided to break for dinner.

"So, quick naps and showers and then we meet up in the lobby for dinner?" Courtney asked. 

"Nap time? More like sexy time." I thought I said it in my head. 

"That's exactly what I meant by nap time," Courtney said, giving Chandler a suggestive look. 

We parted ways and Cayden and I skipped toward our cabana hand in hand. 

"I love our new friends," I said, looking up at Cayden with drunken eyes. 

"I know, they're perfect," he said. "They're so much fun. And they're just like us! I wish they lived in Dallas."

"I guess we're just going to have to take some road trips to Monroe, Louisiana."

 

312. Cup Sizes

"So, which pool is it going to be?" Cayden asked as we surveyed the third and final pool. It was the exclusive pool, which was adults-only, and Cayden and I had exclusive wristbands to grant us access.  

"Where is everybody?" I asked as I shifted my beach bag to my other shoulder. I'd assumed the exclusive pool would be full of people my age, sipping margaritas and organizing off-site adventures. Instead what we found was a middle-aged couple reading separate Kindles under giant sunhats and three 30-something women face-down and passed out in their lounge chairs, probably recovering from the previous night's festivities.

The first pool--the activities pool--had a volleyball net and Spanish music played through the surrounding speakers. It would have been perfect if not for the handful of toddlers and pre-teens I spotted having a splashing contest at one end of the pool. Getting waterlogged by a bunch of little shits wearing braces was the last thing I wanted to do on my honeymoon. And if they got pool water in my pina colada, I couldn't guarantee anyone's safety.

The second pool we surveyed was the relaxation pool. No music. No hyperactive children. No obnoxious teenagers binge drinking and flashing their boobs like it's spring break in Cancun. Just a swim-up bar and the sound of the nearby ocean for entertainment. 

"Let's go back to the relaxation pool," I suggested. "I thought I saw a few people our age over there. Could be fun."

It was only 10:30 a.m., so I shouldn't have been that surprised that people weren't already at the pool with a drink in hand. We'd woken up earlier than expected, and we'd already enjoyed (some sexy time and) a huge breakfast of eggs, sausage, french toast and fresh fruit from the buffet, which we ate on the restaurant's wrap-around patio overlooking the crystal blue water. 

Thick, gray clouds rolled in as Cayden and I threw our towels down on two blue lounge chairs at one end of the relaxation pool. We looked at the sky and then at each other and laughed. With our luck, it would rain non-stop for the next seven days. Neither of us was phased. It could have rained all day and all night and I would have been perfectly happy to spend the next week locked up in a hotel room with Cayden and 24-7 room service. 

"You seriously look amazing," Cayden said, eyeing me up and down as I rubbed suntan lotion on my arms and chest. I still felt half-naked in my new swim suit, but I also felt half awesome. 

"Thanks, baby," I said, trying not to blush. "So do you."

"Me? No. Not until I get a tan."

OK, so he was a little pasty. He had that "London summer glow."

The pool water was cool and refreshing, albeit at an awkward depth. The entire pool was barely four feet deep, just low enough to expose your entire stomach and chest, and just high enough to drown you if you tried to sit down. We squatted down onto our knees and waded over to the swim up bar with our plastic double-insulated cups.

"Two frozen margaritas, por favor."

"Where did you get those?" the brunette girl next to me asked, pointing at our cups. She seemed to be about my age with giant green eyes and a chest only money could buy. I looked down at my slightly shrunken boobs and sighed. As much as I loved losing weight, I hated that it came at the expense of my once full boobs. But then I remembered my margarita cups were bigger than hers and I smiled. More boobs for her, more margaritas for me. 

"Brought them with us," I said. "I read on Sabor's Facebook page that you should bring your own giant cups or you get stuck with the tiny ones, which means you have to keep going back for more. Good for business. Bad for my buzz," I said. 

"That's genius! I wish we'd known about that." She turned to her friends who were propped up in lounge chair next to the bar. "Hey! We need to go get giant cups like theirs. Chandler, why didn't we think to bring giant cups?"

A guy in a lounge chair with a shaved head and sunglasses, who I assumed to be Chandler, looked disapprovingly at his small cup of melted margarita and shrugged. The hipster-looking guy next to him with a swoop of sand-colored hair peeking out from under his fedora hat gave his cup the same defeated look, and the thin, leggy, beautiful model-type next to him seemed to be too engrossed in whatever she was reading on her Kindle to notice her cup was sub par. 

The brunette turned back to us and lifted her cup by way of greeting. "I'm Courtney, by the way. Where are y'all from?"

I couldn't quite place her accent. It was southern, but I got the impression that it wasn't Texan. 

"I'm from Dallas and he's from London," I said, suddenly realizing yet again that there was no easy to to explain what we were doing there without going into the details. 

"From London???" she exclaimed. "Oh, let me hear your accent!"

Cayden laughed. He was used to this. 

"What do you want me to say?"

"Ah, Vicky, are you hearing this?" Courtney called out to the leggy model. "He has a British accent!"

There's really no better icebreaker. 

Three hours and 8-10 drinks later, we were all best friends. Oh, we were also shitfaced. I wasn't sure if it was the copious amounts of alcohol or our gregarious personalities, but we all clicked. I couldn't even hate Courtney for her gorgeous green eyes or perfect rack because she was downright hilarious. And while Vicky may have looked like a runway model with her tousled beach hair and never-ending legs, she definitely didn't have the dry personality or inflated ego to match. She was a sweetheart with an adorable Louisiana accent and an air of innocence about her. The hipster boy, David, actually wasn't a hipster at all and had a weird obsession with dragons. They all lived in Monroe, Louisiana, and they were in Cozumel celebrating Chandler and Courtney's one-year wedding anniversary. 

When we told them we were on our honeymoon, they cheered and congratulated us, and then confusion washed over their drunken faces.

"Wait..." Courtney said. "I thought you said he lived in London and you live in Texas. Are you married and living in separate countries?" She was looking at me like I was insane. 

"Not exactly..."

Cayden and I took turns summing up our situation. All the while, Vicky listened with a speculative look. I could't tell if she was too drunk to understand or if we were took drunk to explain it right, but it looked like she was thinking very hard about something. 

We got the usual responses. "WHAT?" "That's bullshit!" "His visa was REFUSED? I thought getting married made him a citizen?" "So how much longer do you have to wait?" and "I'm so sorry for you guys. I can't imagine how much this sucks."

But it was Vicky's response that completely threw me off. 

"So... weird question," she started. "Were you by any chance on 'Love Letters to Kellie' on Kidd Kraddick?"

"I WAS!" I screamed. 

"You were?!"

"She was!" Cayden screamed. 

"Holy shit!" Courtney added. 

And like a bunch of drunk 20-somethings, we freaked the fuck out. 

311. Flashback

When I felt his arm draped across me the next morning, I thought I was dreaming. I was afraid the heaviness of his arm across my hip would disappear if I opened my eyes. It had happened before. One minute I'd be laying there, his arm around me, our noses touching as we tried to gaze into each other's eyes without laughing, and the next minute I'd be alone in my bed wondering if I'd completely lost my mind.

I stayed completely still and begged my eyelids to find the strength to hold shut. I wanted to go back to that dream place with Cayden and the candlelit dinner, the ocean, the sand between my toes, cold water lapping at our feet, the long pier with the thatch roof under a bed of stars. It all seemed so real and so unreal I couldn't make sense of it. I wiggled my toes under the sheets and they still felt dry from the barefoot walk in the sand. I felt the weight of his arm shift and I thought he was going to disappear again. I squeezed my eyes shut to hang onto the dream and his hand crept lower down my hip.

The sensation gave me a flashback to another part of the dream. A dirty dream, indeed. His shirt was off. My lips and hands were trailing down his neck, his chest, his stomach. I remembered how pale his stomach looked under my tan hands and the way it shuddered in reaction to my lips. I'd untied his linen pants and pushed him down on the bed. I remembered just standing there for a moment, admiring the man in front of me in the tight black boxer briefs and the feeling of excitement at what was about to happen. I slid my lace panties off and kicked them to the side before I crawled on top.

"Good morning, baby."

What? I didn't remember him saying that in the dream. That's kind of a weird thing for someone to say at a time like that. My eyes fluttered as I tried to hold onto the dream, but I felt it slipping away. The dream was gone but the weight on my waist was not. What the hell?

"Are you awake?"

I let one eye peek open. I saw a tile floor, a couch, a sliding glass door. Beyond the glass door I saw a hammock and palm trees. It wasn't until I saw my panties lying next to the coffee table that I realized I hadn't been dreaming about Cayden, I'd been replaying the activities of the night before. I confirmed it by looking down at the slightly pale hand on my hip. It was real. Cayden was there.

I turned around to face him and clung to him, at which point I realized we were both still naked. I buried my face in his chest and wrapped a leg around him, just to make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

"I take that as a yes," he said.

"Yes," I whispered.

We stayed like that for a long time, just holding onto each other and enjoying the feeling of naked skin against naked skin. When you go four months without any physical contact, the lightest touch can feel like the most amazing thing in the world. And the roughest touch can leave you paralyzed in sexual satisfaction. A flashback of Cayden's hand entangled in my hair in a tight fist made me hold my breath.

"So, what should we do today?" Cayden asked, interrupting my erotic flashback for the second time that morning. "Drink all day under the sun or drink all day under the sun?"

While I couldn't go wrong with either option, I had a third option to throw into the mix.

"Or," I said, kissing the side of his neck. "We could..."

I left it at that as I trailed back down his neck. His chest. His stomach.

310. Date Night

I'm here!


My stomach did flip flops as I read the text message. I nearly flipped out of the hammock I'd been glued to for the past few hours.

I'll meet you in the lobby!

I stopped in front of the mirror on my way out and was surprised to see that the humidity hadn't yet caused my hair to revert back to my 7th grade style when I lived in Houston and straighteners didn't exist. I put my hat back on anyway and reapplied my deodorant, lipstick and perfume before I skipped toward the door.

 looked at the time: 8:05. My stomach growled as a reminder that the only thing in my stomach since my bowl of cereal at breakfast were three beers and a handful of peanut M&Ms. My big plan to throw Cayden down on the bed and kiss every inch of his body was quickly being replaced an even greater desire to stuff my face with anything and everything at one of the various restaurants on the resort.

I passed by the tennis courts and basketball court, rounded the corner and walk-ran between two rows of two-story white cabanas. I smiled at the staff members behind the hospitality desk and nearly hurdled over a small hispanic child chasing after a beach ball in the lobby. I scanned the room.

There he was. Standing in front of the front desk with his suitcase propped up next to him. His smile mirrored mine the moment our eyes met. It took everything I had not to let four months of sexual and emotional frustration explode right there in the Sabor lobby. Talk about will power.

I closed the distance between us with a few strides and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me tight with his arms around my waist and I was finally exactly where I wanted to be forever. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to wrap a leg around him and dry hump him in the hotel lobby. Instead, I stood on my tip toes and kissed him.

My lips stung and puckered and I pulled away as fast as I'd swooped in.

Cayden looked down at me laughing.

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I probably taste like the ocean."

I made exaggerated spitting gestures and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"That ferry ride was rough."

I decided I didn't care whether he tasted like spearmint gum or the Gulf, and I stole another lip-stinging kiss.

"You're here," I said when I pulled away. "You're really here."

I said it every time to reassure myself it was true.

"I'm here," he said with a smile. "And holy shit, you look amazing. Look at you."

He spun me in a circle. I beamed.

"OK, now let's get you a shower so we can go eat. I'm so hungry I could eat a dolphin."

Cayden held my hand tightly as we walked to our room. I pointed out the activities pool, the relaxation pool, and three of the five restaurants. "What are you hungry for? I'm thinking either Asian-fusion or Italian." I silently hoped he'd say Italian. I could have motorboated a plate of fettucini right about then.

"Let's do Italian," he said, smiling down at me.

After he was fresh and showered and dressed up in his gray linen pants and button down shirt, we did something we hadn't done in four months. We went on a date.

309. Planes, Trains, and Other Various Forms of Transportation

And now from Cayden's perspective:

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Almost 4 months to the day since I was saying goodbye to Whitney in Dallas, it was time again to start what has become known to me as the ‘ritual’.  Passport, check. Bag packed, check. Percy Pigs, check. Bus to the train station, train to the airport, check. I feel like Clooney in the movie Up In The Air, with getting on a flight almost as autonomous as waking up to pee in the middle of the night, eyes half shut, yet not spilling a drop.

Despite the familiarity of the ritual, this trip had a different feel to the others. Was I excited to see Whitney? Like you couldn’t imagine! The bitter pill I’d been swilling around my mouth for the past 4 months though, the heartache, the frustration, the anger, the rage, the dashed hopes……it had all left a bitter taste that was hard to shift. I felt I should have been more excited for our pre-wedding honeymoon, but until I had Whitney clinging to me like a Koala Bear, I felt I couldn’t get overly excited.

On the train to the airport, I had a sickening thought. What if the embassy had made another ‘technically, it’s not a refusal’ gaff and prevented me from travelling anywhere while I was under review? Normally, I wouldn’t have entertained the idea, but this whole process has made me into a nervous wreck.

I set myself milestones.

Milestone 1 – Get checked in without a nasty surprise that I can’t travel

Milestone 2 – Get through security

Milestone 3 – Get on the flight

Good news, I achieved all 3. The cloud of the last 4 months started to lift once I was airside, and I treated myself to some extra legroom, too. Now, I was finally starting to feel things were going our way, for the first time in a long time.

The flight was 10 and a half hours long, not half as eventful as Whitney’s flight with a crazy, Jack-guzzling, possible killer, but it didn’t go without its drama.

I became a witness to some crazed lunatic of a woman threatening a member of the cabin staff. I was told someone would need to speak to me about the incident.  Welcome back nervous wreck Cayden, and to thinking the worst. Would they keep me when we landed? Would I have to talk to the police? How long would I need to stay? Would I miss my connections to Cozumel? It had the hallmarks of being a real pain in the ass. 

I landed at Cancun airport and felt a huge sigh of relief. I had made it. I was in Mexico and just a couple of hours from seeing Whitney. Now I was happy. This is how getting excited about a pre-wedding honeymoon should feel like.  I gingerly strolled past the cabin crew, hoping they would not keep me for questioning, and on through to customs. Did I feel guilty for arriving in the country? NO. Did I get pulled aside and interrogated because of my surname? NO. Is this what it’s like to travel to the US for normal people? I thought to myself.

I had to travel the 45 miles from Cancun to Playa Del Carmen by taxi, and then catch a ferry to Cozumel. I managed to get a shared taxi ride for the first leg of the journey. A Brit, an Argentinian, a Spaniard and an American couple made up the passengers.  It was like a game of charades.  The Argentinian gesturing to me like an angry monkey wanting a banana, as he tried to explain in his language whatever the heck he was trying to say. The American thinking that speaking louder would allow the Spaniard to understand him. It made for a fun ride, I suppose.

I got to the ferry port at Playa Del Carmen and was greeted with a long, almost white sandy beach, with calm turquoise water.  It looked like something I’d seen on TV for the Copa Cabana in Brazil.  Seeing the local families, playing in the sand and sea; that’s some way to live life.  I boarded the ferry with a couple that had also been on my flight. They were a young couple that had just got married that weekend. Yes, you know I was hoping that was us, but after we exchanged stories, and after they had got over the shock and disbelief of what Whitney and I have had to go through, they gave each other a glancing look, kind of to say ‘thank god I have you’.  I saw the mutual appreciation they had for each other, so the urge to throw them in to the sea and kick sand in their faces from sheer jealousy went away. Warning for all you K1-visa applicants, it sends you CRAZY!!!!

The ferry journey, I won’t lie, it was a little rough. We thought we had got the best seats on the ferry, at the back, in the open with a perfect view of Mexico.  Looking out towards Cozumel, deep in thought…then smack! A nice salt water wave to the face. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and begin the drying out of the contact lenses from the salt.

The 20 minutes of swaying, dipping, salt water slaps across the face and dried out contact lenses didn’t matter after 40 minutes because I’d made it. For the first time in 4 months, I was on the same landmass as Whitney.

After a 20 minute taxi ride (yes, a bus, a train, a plane, a taxi and a boat later) I pulled up to this: