*Disclaimer: Hardly anything that follows is true.
Don’t be a cliche on your Hawaiian Beach vacation. Everyone wants to drop the kids off at the grandparents and love the world away in paradise. Beneath a golden sun you’ll be inclined to take the time to heal, recharge, or reignite your relationship. We would encourage you to knock that crap off. Vacations are the perfect opportunity to have it out with the one you love.
There’s a saying in the islands: If the sea is calm, make waves of your own. It starts with aloha, and ends with mahalo, and in between use shark-toothed clubs.
Now, we know what you’re thinking… “But which Hawaiian beach is right to wash my grievances ashore?” Relax, friend. We have done the work for you (because you’ve been unemployed since April 2020). There are four stunning locations near Waikoloa to spend the day cutting each other down. Each beach has a different purpose, so read on to learn more. Just don’t read out loud. Your voice grates on me.
Like the sands of the sea and the worlds in the sky, your partner’s flaws are without number. How could these peccadillos not join you on your perfect Hawaiian vacation? Of course your husband will continue to be a pontificating blowhard in paradise, so why let a premium opportunity to admonish bunnybear get sucked out to sea?
When she opened her suitcase in the condo, did it really surprise you that she had five (5) new swimsuits, a shawl, a sarong, heels AND shades? It’s like that song in which Louis Armstrong famously sang, “I see leaves of green, red roses, too. Amazon came. This box is for you. And I think to myself… what a frivolous wife.”
Spending money doesn’t make inadequacies go away. How many decades does it take to learn this?
As you sit in your beach chair looking around at the incredible shades of blue in the ocean, the hyperbolic curve of the beach, the children digging castles in jubilee, think of all the stupid things your lover has said over the years. Not just the douchey throw-away lines either, but the ones that made it clear they don’t understand basic human principals of decency. Hold fast to those moments of jackassery. Don’t let them stop defining that pasty-chested, sunscreened goober beside you.
And when your partner’s hat blows off and rolls on down the beach, don’t just laugh and say, “I got it, honey,” before jogging 25 yards across soft, Hawaiian sand. Give her a look that says, “I can’t believe you pissed my hard earned money away on that.” She’ll blame the wind, but you can blame her. Put a heavy foot on that low-quality piece of Chinese garbage. Grind the fibers into the earth. It was her idea to come to this gorgeous, forsaken place anyway, and that cost you thousands.
With so many examples of how underdeveloped your partner is — the list could go on forever, as it should — don’t forget these things just because life is wonderful near the shore. Use them to truncheon the fraud out of your dearly betrothed while they masquerade as a benign tourist. We know them better than this; the other Hawaiian beach goers should understand this, too.
“Listen, sweetheart. I’m really sorry that none of my research mentioned Kailua-Kona was reminiscent of Spring Break Cozumel. Yes, the buildings are old and dirty, and yes, there’s a large drug abusing population hanging around the beaches. But at least you’re in Hawaii!”
“Just shut up and snort your meth.”
Have you ever apologized for bringing your cherished abuser to an achingly beautiful resort? You can’t really blame her, though. You got “economical” on your Kona lodging while “judiciously” spending your time at a fancy Waikoloa hotel beach. And now you’re driving all over the island, back and forth between the meth encampment and nirvana.
Sometimes we husbands lose sight of what really matters: money. Spending money, specifically. Your wife knows this, but you’re obviously a cheapongoloid. Who takes a girl to a five-star resort to interlope on their beach? And who lectures their wife about fiscal responsibility while on vacation? <author hangs head>
Sharing a plate of ahi was cute fifteen years ago. Now it’s just pathetic. You’re forty-five years old! Why don’t you just climb up a tree and fetch her a coconut, you penny-pinching loser?
As you’re sitting on your dirty towel in the unshaded section of Mauna Kea Beach, counting the cigarette butts around you, wondering if you really are too cheap for words, you’ll eventually glance over at the umbrellas and loungers reserved for Mauna Kea Beach Resort residents. As the shame of your thrifty decision takes hold, try to not take offense as your life partner sneers at her diamond ring. Whatever you do, refrain from saying something like, “Sweetheart… your diamond sucks not because it’s small, but because your sausage hands make it look small. Remember when we had it sized down? Good times.”
Keep these thoughts to yourself. This is not your time. You’ve lost the battle.
You’re going to have to wait for another beach.
Did you know the Beatles classic, “I, me, mine,” was written about Yoko making demands in these very islands? True story? John Lennon clearly understood Ohana bows out when the gettin’s good.
The Hawaiian culture is a beautiful celebration of family, the universe, and … ourselves, which explains why your spouse claims to be 1/3 Hawaiian. Seriously, when was the last time that sloth picked up a dish and scrubbed it?
Years of neglect cannot be undone because he splurged on a jaunt to a heavenly island. It’s impossible when you’re so packed with resentment that there isn’t room for desert.
“Would you like a soda,” he may ask, as if you need help getting a drink. And where was that offer yesterday when you were actually thirsty? And where was he this morning when you were tidying up the room?
He was playing with his damn camera. And he sure looked pleased with himself while you were gathering towels.
“Honey, look at this great photo I took of you at the beach!”
“Who’s that whore in the background?”
“That’s you, honey!”
“I need a new swimsuit.”
He could buy you a dozen swimsuits, take you out for a hundred steak dinners, and parade you around a thousand tropical islands, and the mass of it all couldn’t make a dent in the anguish and abandonment you’ve felt. Still, you should let him try. Steak and swimsuits are good. Making him feel like a Scooby-Doo tiki-monster is even better.
The coastline of Kua Bay is rugged, and frames Manini’owali’s luxurious sand with drama. Like the feisty lover you used to be, it is a wild stretch of gorgeous landscape.
Remember how it was before he broke you? Before he saddled you with labors and painted your skies gray? Before you settled into that Facebook and knitting lifestyle?
“I didn’t lose that loving feeling! You took it from me,” you insisted on the hotel balcony, simultaneously lamenting and stuffing your face with sugar-free candy.
“One piece,” he replied. “One piece of that crap is fine! Two or more and I’m heading to the beach by myself!”
You remember this conversation well because it happened just yesterday. He walked out the door and you ate three bags of sugar-free toffee and peppermint patties. It was a moment to reflect and hurts to recall. Good heavens, you thought, I’m not even on my own side anymore. I’m eating sugar-free candy by the bagful. I’m a fart factory in paradise. The Scooby-Doo tiki-monster is me!!
The thin line of perfect sand that runs between the Pacific and the Anaeholomalu fishpond is likened to a thin line of blonde that runs down her perfect hair. Not your wife’s hair, no, that’s a tangled mess. And she wore sweatpants to a Hawaiian beach? She’s testing you, brother.
You noticed the woman walk by, but you didn’t stare or anything. She was like a flash of light, a reflection off the water and nothing more.
“Is that what you want,” your blushing bride snivels.
“Nah,” you reply, patting her cotton-covered thigh. “I like my girl natural. Full of farts and complaints.”
She stares blankly for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. You say something? I couldn’t hear you over the ocean breeze rustling these divorce papers.”
Now here is a couple that knows how to vacation! This is seasoned bickering, like a Stockton / Malone clinic in a 4th quarter blowout. There is no need to lower your voices when you have this level of game. In the islands it is called performance tourism.
Legend has it the very first inhabitants of the Hawaiian Islands formed couples and retreated to the corners of the islands to procreate. Every year these families would conjoin in a central location to discuss important island affairs as a council. In fact, this was the only time of the year they would take notice of each other.
After several days of amendment and negotiation in which there was fond feasting and conviviality, on the final night the men would build a fire, roast a wild boar over hot rocks, and drink a crude alcoholic beverage made of coconuts and taro. At midnight, the men would stand in a circle facing outward around the fire, and the women would slap the poop out of them until they groveled. They called the ritual Whining Barnacle Hand to honor the Goddess of jealousy, Ke’ep yae’yes’ Onme. The ancient lore of these sublime locations is carried on to this very day.
Fidelity is at the center of a sound relationship, but the mind of a man is beastly and prosaic. On occasion he is known to look past the ocean and notice a fetid fishpond. Now its possible he was looking for a garbage can to throw away your sugar-free candy, but he probably wasn’t.
If his intentions are ever in question — they should always be in question on a Hawaiian Beach — you can safely assume the worst. Actually, we recommend you multiply the assumption by three.
It’s called the Fishpond Rule of Three’s: Me-you-her, slap-slap-slap, scold-shop-steaks.
There is no greater wisdom in all the islands.
We understand the inclination to utilize your vacation for the betterment of your relationship. And we understand that Hawaiian beach lounging is a seemingly fantastic way to accomplish this. After all, Hawaiian beaches are truly incredible, some of the best on the planet.
It is our deepest, most sincere hope that you have learned how wrong you are. Life is so much more complicated than love and relaxation — much like a beach is more than sand and water. There are pointy things, and bitey things, and drowning things in the ocean, just as there are violent gestures, degrading looks, and words of discouragement on the sand. Take full advantage of all tools at your disposal.
We repeat: Don’t be a cliche.
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