The next morning I felt like my normal self. No more headache and no sunburn pain. Even the splotchy pink patches had all but disappeared. After my breakfast of cereal and fruit, I got ready. My new final grooming step was to rub in a serious amount of SPF 70 sunscreen all over my head, neck, shoulders and arms. It took a few minutes to get the white cream blended into my skin and hair, but if it kept the headaches at bay, I was all for it.
Dressed in a new pair of shorts and one of my cool Hawaiian shirts, I put on my loafers sans socks and headed out. I debated with myself about putting the top up on the convertible but decided to risk keeping it down—I looked cooler driving topless. Ah, vanity.
The mall was less crowded on a Tuesday, and my valet friend was unfortunately not at the desk when I dropped off the car. Bummer.
I found a Sunglass Hut fairly quickly, and the clerk helped me try on over twenty different pair before I chose one I thought worked for my face. Sam was right—they weren’t cheap. Almost three hundred dollars! I put them on as I walked out of the store, and I swear my eyes felt better immediately.
I found a store directory and started looking for any shops that sold swimming attire. There was one called Blue Hawaii Surf that sounded promising. They had a great pair of flip flops—light blue with black leather straps and a funky pineapple painted on the bottom of the left slipper. The right one had the Blue Hawaii logo. I was all set to go back out in the sun.
After I drank a fruit smoothie at Jamba Juice, I decided to give my Centurion card its own vacation for a while. No more shopping. I wanted to go to the ocean. So I retrieved my car—still no sexy valet in tight shorts—and drove across Ala Moana Boulevard and into the park. I put on more sunscreen before locking up. In my new flip flops and sunglasses, I strolled over to the beach and joined the other people hanging out there.
I walked around the curve of the beach to the left until it ended at a wall. Here I could walk in the water along the edge of the shoreline – there weren’t many rocks. The water felt really good on my feet and legs. Further around there were serious rock formations which made walking and playing in the water a bit tricky. But I still had a blast.
It was a small beach and I had walked from one end to the other and back to my car in less than an hour. I put the top down again and sat there trying to decide what to do. I was bored. Sightseeing and shopping were okay, but I was starting to feel lonely. I didn’t know anybody on this island, and even spending time at the beach seemed like something to do with others. So in a bit of a funk, I drove back to house.
The rest of the day was spent reading, eating chicken wings, and napping. For dinner I decided to try to get the grill going. I put a couple of burgers on, sprinkled them with some salt, pepper and garlic salt I found in a cabinet, and while they cooked, I dished up a generous helping of potato salad and opened a bag of chips. I ate my little picnic sitting at the table on the lanai, reading the last of my Robert Ludlum spy novel. The last five chapters were “can’t put it down” intense.
After dinner I swam in the pool. It was relaxing and refreshing. I had managed to chase my earlier blues away and I was feeling better. At one point I jumped in the hot tub and let my thoughts drift, landing on Sam Wainwright and pondering again what he may be thinking about me. I knew what I was thinking about him. He was sexy, hotter than any guy I had ever seen.
I wasn’t sure why exactly, and that’s what intrigued me. I mean, yeah, he had killer looks. And those eyes! I could drown in those eyes and not care. He was the perfect size, a little bigger than me in every way. A couple inches taller, shoulders broader, muscles bigger, everything bigger? Perfectly proportioned and intensely masculine, which is why I was convinced he was straight, and I was just torturing myself.
After thinking about it for a while, I realized what was really so hot about Sam was his confidence. It was so evident, even in the short conversation we had shared. And it was a huge turn on for me. He was Bobby Meyers on steroids. That’s the thing about straight guys and how they innocently torture us gay guys. They have this swagger and certainty about them and it is so blasted desirable. Ugh!
This train of thought was getting me nowhere. I didn’t want fantasy anymore. I wanted the real deal. There had to be a guy out there who would want me for me. There had to be. Preferably one that looked like Sam Wainwright, please.
Maybe I could somehow work on my own confidence. I had shown a little with the valet guy. I didn’t hide the fact I thought he was hot. I never explicitly said I was gay, but it was clear to him just the same. And I enjoyed the flirtations with him. It was fun. He was real. And taken. Crap!
I put myself to bed. There was no point to this line of thinking anymore, and besides, I was tired again. I had had a lot of sun. I hoped I hadn’t overdone it. Tomorrow I needed to find something to do, or I’d go crazy. Maybe this vacation wasn’t such a great idea after all.
I awoke the next morning with a plan. I knew exactly what I needed to do. The bottom line: I was not going to find my guy sitting alone in this house. He was out there somewhere, and Mr. Right, whoever he might be, was not getting the job done. So I would go out and find him.
With a renewed energy I hurried through my breakfast as I searched on the internet for things to do in Honolulu. Millions of people from all over the world came to this city. Surely there was something to do that involved other people.
Tours of Pearl Harbor was a popular activity. I had always been fascinated by history, so I selected one and booked a ticket. If I hurried, I would just make the cut off.
I arrived at the hotel parking lot just as the tour bus was pulling in. Thankfully there were other people joining the tour there, so I was able to walk up and not keep the bus waiting. I found a seat near the back and settled in, eyes on the lookout for my forever love.
Things started out promising when the bus driver turned out to be our tour guide for the day. His name was Gus, and he was charming and uber hot in his cargo shorts and tour guide polo shirt. His pectorals and biceps were barely contained inside it. He had the perfect voice for his job, deep and resonant. It reminded me of a high school English teacher I’d had who could read Shakespeare and have all the girls and half the guys salivating for more. It was sexy and powerful, and I hung on every word. He would talk and my dick would get harder with every syllable.
The only problem was I couldn’t get anywhere near Gus. He was on duty, so he was primed to not allow anyone, male or female, to monopolize his time. So I contented myself with enjoying his voice as he told the stories of battles won and lost, lives saved and lost.
After we picked up the last of our fellow tourists, we headed to the USS Arizona Memorial Visitor Center. We walked through the displays of artifacts from the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor while Gus verbally walked us through the sequence of events from the battle which would live in infamy.
Next he led us out to a nearby dock, where we boarded an actual US Navy launch. The naval officers operating the boat were scorching hot in their white uniforms. The one guy’s dick was large and his pants were so tight, I could easily see the outline of the head of his cock. I tried hard not to stare at his crotch—I didn’t want to be strung up on the yardarm or something.
It was a somber time on the USS Arizona. It was eerie to know I was standing on a floating memorial, just above the tomb of nearly 1,000 sailors who died on that ship during the fight. My eyes were not the only moist ones in our group. Even Gus, who had probably done this tour every day for years, appeared moved by the re-telling.
While on the ship, my thoughts were not on finding a forever love—I was thinking thoughts of deep respect and honor for the men who died defending our country. I remember thinking probably all men want to have that kind of respect. I knew I did. I wanted to have it for myself, too.
Gus paused the tour for a while and gave us an opportunity to grab some lunch at the snack bar. I had a hot dog and a bag of chips with my usual Diet Coke. I ate while I looked around at all the people coming and going. There were several tour groups at one time walking through.
I spied two guys from a different tour than mine who were obviously into each other. I didn’t need gaydar—anyone with eyes could see they were a couple. The dark haired one was constantly touching the blond guy in little ways. Nothing lasted longer than a second or two. But the touches were frequent. It was beautiful to see. I watched them interact from afar for as long as I could, until Gus called our group back together for the next leg of the tour.
At the end of the tour, the ride back to the hotels to drop people off was tedious. People were tired and hungry, including me. The hotel where I parked was the first pickup, so of course we were the last to be dropped off. I was the final one off the bus. As I stepped down, Gus put out his hand and thanked me for taking the tour and asking some interesting questions. He smiled at me and I felt all warm inside. There was nothing happening between us—I eventually saw the wedding ring on his finger earlier in the day—but it made me feel good to have him smile at me.
I had dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse. I was in the mood for a big, juicy ribeye steak smothered in grilled onions. The food was delicious, the service top notch, and after my desert of Key lime pie I expected to be feeling satisfied.
I wasn’t. My stomach was full, but I was empty on the inside. I had spent the whole day surrounded by people, many of whom I had chatted with here and there, trying to be friendly. I wasn’t pursuing anything exactly, just trying to be out there amongst the people. And I never felt lonelier. There was something about being in a crowd of people you don’t know and who don’t know you, which can make you feel so isolated.
I drove back to the house, happy I had gotten out, but a little disappointed nothing had really happened. But it had only been one day. Tomorrow was another day, and who knows what could happen. I needed to find something more to do—perhaps a tour of the city, or maybe even see another island. I had money so I had options.
I finished off the chocolate[covered strawberries just because I could—and because they were a decadent delight. I ate them as I sat and watched the lights in the pool randomly change colors. It was a cool effect, and I felt peaceful on the inside. Not satisfied, but at least a bit calmer and more relaxed. Probably all the sugar. I fell asleep on the lounge chair where I sat, the hot tub bubbling away with its soothing sounds.