At midday yesterday, the brown tiger called via Skype video. My baby. He got a 1/2 day off the boat and had scampered on to the Caribbean Island to find a restaurant with Internet. There he was on the 2nd floor outdoor porch of this restaurant, full screen, my baby (did I say that already?). He hates the ship and is already ready to walk off. They’re working him 10 hours a day, he’s not even done a full walkthru of the ship yet, no time. Food is horrid. Cabin tiny. Bathroom is tinier. He even managed to bitch about the scent of the bio laundry detergent he has to use. My baby tiger.
TC wants me to expedite some change in my life. He’s even bent on a couple of his main issues already (let’s give him another week). He just wants us back together. Ditto. I hope TC and I go the extra mile and make the extra effort, it will hopefully work out. I get all teary, such a f*cking woman.
“Oh my cabin mate is here with me, he’s a personal trainer“, TC dutifully explains trying to change the subject. He turns the camera round to show me the surroundings, you can see the ship in the distance. The webcam falls on his cabin mate, who looks up and waves back to me. OMG. He’s a f*cking stud, a hot muscle boy. The camera pans back to TC and I all I see is a toothy white smile beneath his sunglasses. “CHRIS”, I go berzerk, screaming at my monitor, “wipe that shit eating grin off your face“.
I calm down (a bit, TC loves to toy with straight boys and it drives me straight up a wall). His cabin mate steps over to TC’s table to say he’s returning to the ship. All I need hear is the Aussie accent. “He’s a f*cking stud boy from Australia“, I exclaim. Shit eating grin returns. NO NO NO NO, I said no, don’t you go trying to be no lap dog. Hey, this is how we operate.