“What’s life like as a Single Pringle?” asked my friend Laura over a cup of coffee.

It was a miserable day in January. Outside the cafe’s window, the snow was whirling and people walked doubled over against the wind. My cheeks were still burning from the cold and I was pretty sure Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer could have called me his sister.

“I’m rattling around alone at the bottom of the can. My edges are slowly crumbling apart and soon there will be nothing left of me.”

Laura laughed. “You have always been a bit melodramatic, Jessy.”

“Fuck that, it’s the truth.” At the swear word, an older gentleman looked up, staring at me. I stuck out my tongue and he looked away.

Not a very lady-like behavior for a woman in her mid-forties, I know but that’s what I felt like. I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me. My husband of fifteen years had left me for a guy. Yes, can you believe it? He preferred cock over me. Of course, he said he had found the love of his life with the guy from the gym. Dark skinned, toned, and probably had a dick the size of a small child’s arm.

Anyway, after the degrading experience of finding out my husband was gay, I tried to look at the bright side of it but didn’t find that side. Drinking, sobbing, and signing up for dating sites was my remedy. It didn’t work, I gave up the drinking after a couple of weeks, couldn’t deal with the hangover and work. The dating sites were still on after six months but hadn’t given me more than a few boring dates and one shitty fuck in the front seat of an Audi. No, this was not the life I had expected.

“Jessy, Jessy, what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea. Seriously look at me, I have a great body for my age, I’m smart, great taste in clothes and I’m funny. Why can’t I meet a guy?”

“Maybe you are looking in the wrong places?”

“What do you suggest I do, hang out in bars?”

“No, but isn’t there anyone at work or in your neighborhood who is single?”

“Sure, but the ones my age all want arm candy or a quick fuck, which I’m not into.”

Laura went for a refill and while she was gone, I stared out the window. It had been horrible coming home that day. After closing the door I had dumped my keys on the table by the door and when I walked past the living room on the way to our bedroom I had seen them. John, my dear hubby lying between Lionel’s legs sucking his cock. They hadn’t noticed I was there until I was next to them. I told them to get the fuck out and then I called a locksmith. A few days later John came by and picked up his things. I didn’t speak to him.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry for you,” said Laura when she came back.

“Thanks, but I made a decision. I’m going on a holiday, I need to get away from here and the memories, and I also need sun and a beach.”

“Sound’s good. Where are you going?”

“Not sure, I’m going to the airport after the coffee. My bag is packed in the car and I’m taking the first flight south.

That was the previous afternoon. Five hours after the coffee was over, I was on a tropical island sipping a too-sweet drink from a too-long straw, but it was wonderful. The sun warmed my skin and when I took a swim the water was like velvet. I felt so much better I decided to go to the bar after dinner. Not to meet anyone but to do something.

The place was busy. I few families and singles hung around the bar or at the tables. Local music was playing from a band at the end of the bar and there was a groove in the air. Laughter, clinks of glasses, and music were just what I needed.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. The barman was a handsome young man who flirted for tips so I gave him one. Then I enjoyed my drink. It was dry and cold just like I liked it.

“No, your father said you can’t go out. Is that understood?”

The voice came from a woman my age. She was sitting two tables away and her face was red. The receptor of her words was her son. He looked as angry as his mother but kept quiet. I went back to my drink.

A while later, I felt it was time for a smoke so I finished my wine and went out into the garden surrounding the bar. Smoking wasn’t allowed inside. I found a bench under some tropical tree and lit up. Inhaling deeply, I felt the nicotine rush and I smiled. Life could be pretty good after all.

There were footsteps and the young man who had been shouted at by his mother came walking.

“Good evening,” I said to be polite.

He ignored me. “Hey, don’t be a dick because your mom is a bitch.”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. “Do you know my mom?”

“No, but I know her type. Mine was the same.”

He came towards me and then sat down next to me on the bench. “That bad?” I asked.

“All I want is to go across the street to the local bar, the kids my age who are here are all there.”

“How old are you, sixteen?”

“Eighteen.”

“Well, in this country the drinking age is eighteen?”

“Who cares, no one ever cards here.”

“True. Anyway, good luck, I’m going back inside.”

“Thanks.”

I left him and got myself a few more glasses of wine before I began the walk back to my hotel room. It had been a nice evening and even though I felt sorry for the kid, I know his mom was right.

The following day I decided to hang by the pool. The sea was too choppy and there was a wind. I lay close to the pool bar sipping on a mojito when I saw the kid and his family come down the stairs from the main building. First came the mother, then the father, followed by the kid and a teenage girl about his age. At first, I thought it might be his younger sister but their eyes were too similar and so was their hair color. I realized they were twins. I hadn’t seen her in the bar the night before.

I watched them get their things together and when the kid took off his shorts I lowered my sunglasses and looked over the rim.