Here’s a view of a not-so-bathhouse bathhouse. It’s located in Blue Hills, which Corb and I decided to visit on Friday night on our way in to Boston.
This was located on a short stretch of beach located in the Blue Hills. It looked nice, the water looked clean , and the sand in the water didn't look disgusting to wqalk through. Corb and I just went for a short walk along the beach. He let me take my bathhouse photo and then we moved back into the car.
Now, here. Here’s the true spirit of a bathhouse, believe it or not. Corb and I approached this location of Blue Hills with the intention of viewing the skyline of Boston. The men were standing around, trying to look nonchalant, trying to look at anything but the skyline.
We were in the Blue Hills woods, parked in a breathtakingly beautiful area with a great view of Boston. Along the parking spot and the first observatory, couples mingled around, a few teenagers. That was pretty innocent. But across the street, a short path led to a tower. At the tower, you could climb up for a short rocky hike, at which point you reached a small clearing which afforded an even better view.
Here’s the tower. Around the base (where else?), men stood around, pretending not to look at one another. One head popped up from behind a wall, to stare at us from behind a stone window.
“Did you see that? They’re all looking to hook up,” whispered Corb. “I feel bad for people bringing their kids here around this time of day.”
We make our way to the top. I started to huff around halfway up. I really have to start doing push-ups again. I sort of abandoned them after I fell at the house and fractured two ribs.
We make it to the top. There are two or three men up there, too, staring at the skyscrapers in Boston, which were partially obscured by smog.
As it turns out, someone followed us up. Some guy in his twenties, wearing a red shirt. After taking a few pictures of the skyline, Corb and I ignore him and make our way back to the car.
I turned to Corb as I slammed my door closed. “So tell me,” I said, turning to him. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Do you come here often?”
“Every Friday!” he said. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“They call me...Rodney.” I said, using my best phone sex voice.
“Hey, Rod. My name’s Rock Hard!”
We laughed. It made me glad that I was in a committed relationship, and not looking to open it up even a crack. That’s not the life I want to lead. Never has been.
Speaking of committed, I continue to be fascinated by this whole David Hasselhoff “Hop in My Car” thing. When I posted the other day, I didn’t realize that he was seriously trying to market this song as a single. Then I saw the video online.
How cheesy! I feel bad for poor Kit, forced into the role of a pimpmobile while the Hawff pimps for blond bimbos. I expected nothing but bad from the Hawff after Night Rider, but for Kit…well, I was hoping for so much. Motor fuel wishes and caviar dreams, and all that.
I can just imagine the conversation between the Hawff and Kit after the video filming ended.
“That was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to live through. Next time when you make a video, can you do me a favor and drag in one of your has-been Baywatch stars? Maybe one of the lifeguard girls with the designer boobs? I knew I should have tried out for that Herbie remake…”
Corb and I have something of a ritual in the mornings, when the kids sleep over (which is every other night).
Ashes sleeps in the big bedroom, while Theo sleeps in the foldout couch. I can’t sleep in the big bed with Ashes (she moves around too much), and thought that the green couch I snagged from Kiss Me Kate would get me my own space, but it isn’t comfortable enough. The fold out couch with Theo is really the most comfortable spot.
But, during the summer, Corb goes to work before I wake up, and we’ve worked out a system. He gets up, and taps me awake on the couch. I move to the little bedroom to get some good sleep (the fold out couch is okay, but always gives me a backache). And then, when he leaves, he gives me a kiss, and he’s off.
It’s imperfect, but kind of sweet. I always wake up with a smile in the morning.