Welcome to The Island

You should probably know, though I’m not going to be the one to tell you, that I’ve placed you on “the island.” And, no, this is NOT the island that’s deserted and where we have to spend the rest of our lives depending on each other, no doubt spending the first 3 weeks doing it on the beach morning, noon, and night (oh come on, you know that’s the first thing everyone thinks of with this scenario). No, I’m not on this island at all. You are though, along with those who are like you and have been sent there previously. You guys can totally do it on the beach morning, noon, and night should you wish – but I’m pretty sure you (and the others – uh, okay, MOST of the others) don’t swing that way.

For the first few weeks, there will be attempts to test out your carpentry skills and build a raft, and I’ll even have sentencing remorse and send out a lifeboat (or two) to bring you back. It’s usually an attempt late at night, after you’re delirious from something island-like, like fermented coconut milk, and me suffering from a more common intoxication. And because of your lovely allure and sweet, perfect kisses, I can’t help but welcome you back, even if just for a moment. But, I promise you, its short lived; just ask your new island buddies. They know. They’ll tell you that I’m crazy (that’s always your guys’ excuse) and that you’re not alone. They’ll say there are way better fish in the sea (and you’ll think, there damn well better be –we’re surrounded by miles and miles of water!). And finally, they’ll say not to worry, man, you are definitely better off on the island. And, hey, you know what – honestly, you probably are. And while it was fun and exciting, having you there, and not here, is better for me too.