Have you ever been on a first date? Wait….Do you even remember your last “first date”?
So remember we're we left off, yeah you got it...I finally got the name and the number of my mystery guy. But he had to wait 6 months for that first date.

It's not that I didn't want to see him again...but with my life in St. Maarten (the dutch side of the island) and his in Anguilla….and with the drama from the last guy I dated, well, let’s just say I was in no rush for any kind of new relationship.

We did talk on the phone though...and we had a quick meet up on July 14th, French St. Martin’s Bastille Day, a yearly event held in Marigot.  He was in St. Martin (the French side of the island)  for a bike race that was to happen the next day. It was not his first trip to St. Maarten since we met but it was the first time I told him we can at least meet up.

My friend and I had planned to take her daughter, who just happens to be my god daughter,  to see the fireworks and have dinner. If you are ever in St. Maarten on July 14th,  don’t miss this spectacular firework exhibition on the water.  And if you are in Anguilla, just perch yourself on the beach, with a late night picnic basket and enjoy the show!

Back to the story….So I told him, if he was there he can check us out at Rosemary’s, love her stewed conch and rice….deeeelish!!!

It was a pleasure to spend time with my friend and goddaughter.  As we sat there chatting, laughing and eating...he appeared just like that, with that drop dead gorgeous smile…..and out of nowhere, which is totally out of character, I stood up and gave him a huge hug….

Melting…

Melting…

Melllltiiiiiinnng….

AHHHH…..so warm...so strong….so safe….don’t let go…

Best hug everrrr!!!

We made small talk, as one would say.

Watched the fireworks and got a glimpse at the kind of man he was, as he offered to lift my god daughter up so she could see what she called then “the fire kings” as she was terribly afraid of fireworks.

Afterwards, we hugged goodbye as he had an early curfew…….

So would you call this a date? Well, not exactly but it was nice and it gave my friend a chance to chime in on her opinion.  She approved!

Boooooop….Boooooop...Boooooop
Him: Hello
Me: Hi
Him: Hellooo
Me: How you doing?
Him: I good
Me: So what you doing tomorrow?
Him: I don’t know, it’s the opening of carnival here in Anguilla. Probably check that out. You? What you doing?
Me: Hanging with you  

Until next time!

​

​As I was saying he began to unbuckle his belt, pull his zipper down, and removed his pants to reveal.............his ….brightly……colored………riding……shorts. He pulled up the straps of his shorts and put on a matching colored jersey. By the time we got to the Marigot port in St. Martin he was in full cycling gear.
 Ohhhhhhh!!!!..........That explains the sexy bod and why my aunt would later call him "a lean cuisine"……. Yum!
 
Can you imagine my delight?!!!!! (Blushing as I write this)
 
I came off the boat before he did, pleased with my boat ride entertainment.  No sleeping this trip.  I was not expecting anything else in fact I had already accepted the fact  that he was just a cool cat I met on the boat and that was as far as I would get. I don't even remember seeing him as I passed through passport control with the French immigration.  I proceeded outside and waited for my brother to pick me up.
 
Thank God, my brother was his usual late self (this must have been the only time I was happy he was late) because mystery guy found me standing outside the ferry terminal waiting.
Him: Hello (with that drop dead gorgeous smile of his)
Me: Hey
Him: What’s your name?
Me: Tami
Him: I’m Kris, can I call you?
Me: Nice to meet you Kris, Sure.
 
And he proceeds to take out a pen and piece of paper with shaking hands to the point I thought, oh God, I gave the man a seizure by saying yes.
Then I started thinking, do I really want to go there.  I remembered having to walk in a wedding with a guy that was so nervous that his hands were always shaking and down wet.  Imagine trying to walk down the aisle in a church with a smile and your partners hands are down wet and shaking….Not fun, just gross. Dude, I don’t know you like that to be sharing all that bodily fluid.
 
Back to earth Tami, reality check, THIS IS NOT THE SAME GUY! AND THIS ONE IS CUTE!
And besides, he may turn out to be a really good friend.
 
So, I gave him my number and he gave me his number……….…..little did he know it would be a long time before he would get to see me again.

If you have been following this story, you must be wondering now, what happened on that boat ride to St. Maarten? Did she get the guy?
So where did we leave off in Part 1...oh yeah I remember now.

I was walking along wondering if this mystery man with the killer smile would ask for the digits. Typically when I am catching the ferry I’m on a serious NY hustle, and the pier is but a mere few seconds walk, but not today. I managed to stroll along side of him as we chatted and discovered we were both from the village of South Hill, literally just down the street from each other. We laughed at the notion of how is it possible that I have been passing his house for years and we have never met. He swears he remembers my aunt passing his house when he was younger with a light skinned girl in her car, I'm not convinced it was me.
​

What I do believe though is that nothing happens before its time.

As we boarded the boat I went ahead of him, as he had to deal with bringing his bike on board, to my usual spot, down below in the lower cabin, so I can find a seat, stretch my legs, close my eyes and prepare myself to relax for the short 20 minute boat ride.  Just as I stretched my legs across the seat, my mystery guy appeared with his bike. I tried not to look I couldn't dare let him see the sudden uncontrolled excitement that came over me, that would just make me look desperate. Right?

He settled in a seat across the aisle from me, in perfect eye view but by this time I had pretended to have my head down nestled between the crease of my folded arm which I rested on the seat in front of me.  With everyone settled, the boat started and we were on our way. I was not prepared for what happened next.
Throughout the journey I would sneak peeks through my fingers to see what my mystery guy was doing. What I saw you probably won't believe me but here it is. At first I thought I was daydreaming in Hi Def.  I took a double take, rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing clearly between my fingers which now seemed glued to my face.
​
My mystery guy took his shirt off, revealing the smoothest, golden brown skin, a washboard stomach and chiseled arms...oh my..what's a girl to do.....keep peeking, of course!
He began to unbuckle his belt, pull his zipper down, and removed his pants to reveal.........wait for it, wait for it………Yeah, you’ll just have to wait until next week!!! Thanks for reading!

Every Mother’s Day I take months trying to decide the best gift to give to the one woman in the world that means everything to me, my mom, better known to me as Mommy.  If you know my mom, you’ll know she is a person that doesn’t wait for anyone to get her anything.  So what do you give a person that seems to have it all? Or what do you give a person the things they do want, as much as you would love to give them, is beyond your reach? I have pondered this question many times at every special occasion, Mother’s Day, Birthdays and Christmas.  Deciding on a gift to the person that labored to bring you into this world should not be decided on a whim.

Here’s some of the gifts that I have given to my mother and how I think about them:

Flowers – My mother loves flowers but I could never find the right flower that demonstrates how rare and beautiful my mother is.

Rubies – My mother’s birthstone and one of her favorites gems.  But yet, there is no gem unique and brilliant enough that shines as bright in a crowd as my mother does.

Perfume – Aaahh, I used to love shopping on my mother’s dressing table to put on some of the most exotic and sweetest smells. I have searched for a perfume, for my mother, with the perfect combination of sweet and spicy just like her.  My mother is a sweetheart but watch out that tongue of hers can be sharp, quick and loaded with spice.

Music – My mother has an eclectic taste for music and will listen to a variety of genres.  She has always appreciated and enjoyed the albums that I have chosen for her.  The best music, which I do not know how to capture, is the sound of her voice cheering you in the crowd “that’s my daughter, Yes, Tami, I know you could do it!”, the voice that supports you in your endeavors no matter how half-baked they may seem.

Clothes – For those of you that know my mom, my MOM is a DIVA, and still can teach me fashion tips.  And what piece of clothing can truly embrace her and cover her with the same love in the same manner that she has done for her children, none that I know.

So this Mother’s Day, I put my fingers to the keyboard, swiped cursor across the screen and dug deep to express how much my mother truly means to me. She is more than any gift or card that I have purchased.  She is my mom.  I love her! And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I love you Mommy!

Catching the Ferry: An Anguillian Love Story Part 1

I cannot tell you how many times I have sat at the Blowing Point Ferry Terminal in Anguilla, as locals would say “to catch the boat” headed to St. Maarten.  Travelling to Anguilla by boat, is just one of the ways to get there, but the one most familiar to me.  But what happened on February 24th, 2012 will make the terminal a very special place.

I had gone to Anguilla the day before, to visit both an aunt and an uncle who were hospitalized at the same time. My mother, living in New York, needed reassurance that her two elder siblings were ok. The plan was to go to Anguilla, visit my aunt and uncle and return to St. Maarten on the 7:30am ferry. Simple. Right? Thankfully, God’s plan was bigger and better.  

When I went to the hospital I was unable to speak to my uncle.  I did not want to return to St. Maarten, without being able to tell my mother, “I spoke with both of them, sent them your love, and they are doing well”.  That meant, returning to the Princess Alexandra Hospital the next morning.  Luckily, the ferry boats are scheduled to run every 45 minutes. 

I arrived at the Blowing Point Ferry Terminal well before 1:30pm.  As I entered, it was business as usual. I gave my passport to be signed paid the $15 boat fee and the $5 taxes; passed through security check;  then proceeded to find a seat.

As I walked down the middle aisle between the rows of cold, steel, blue and silver seats, I quickly looked for the row with the least amount of people to find a free seat at the end.  I found it, the only row with just one other person sitting at the opposite end. As I prepared to sit down, I just happened to glance at the man sitting in the last seat on the other end.  He looked up and, literally, my heart jumped.  It sounds cliché, like something that only happens in the movies, right? But this was the real deal.

With his full attention, I tried my best to sit ladylike, so not me, I usually just plop myself down. When I sat down he flashed those pearly white teeth with the biggest  grin. I just knew he was trouble.  My cynical self-thought, no one this fine could be good. 

There was a young woman, asking visitors of a particular shade, not mine, to fill out surveys.  Before I knew it, I blurted out “So only white people are tourist”.  I honestly didn’t realize that I had said it out loud.  The ever so fine man with the pearly white teeth, loudly commented “For true”, an Anguillian slang for “I agree”.

This started a lively discussion, between him and I, about stereotypes and the importance of acknowledging that visitors of Anguilla which also include travelers from neighboring islands and the Anguillians who live abroad.  We were having such a good time I did not even noticed that it was time to board.

As I stood up to walk, I wondered if I had lost my “mojo”.  I mean he didn’t even ask for my name.  I am still old-school in that regard, where I think the man should make or at least feel he is making the first move.    Walking towards the boat, I brought my New York hustle move to a slow step since he was on his turtle swag, hoping he would catch up.

So did he catch up? Well for now, let’s just say that I got my mojo back.   You will have to read Part 2 to know what happened next.

I dream Anguilla.