Oh the weather outside is frightful
But our honeymoon photos are delightful
And since we've no place to go, because I already walked the dog to a fabled dog park far away in the driving rain and ended up muddied from ankle to thigh
Let's make with the posting already
The morning after our big gay wedding, Katr and I left our patient and wonderful friends to look after the last few post-wedding errands in Toronto while we took off for our big gay two-week honeymoon at the Excellence Riviera Cancun. We'd had about two hours sleep and Katr still had a head full of bobby pins from her princess hair-do the night before. We barely made it through security. But soon we were winging our way to paradise! Sweet, boozy paradise.
We were worried that, because we're homos, we'd have to fight to get all the honeymoon perks the resort promises newlyweds, but we were thrilled to find the honeymoon banner on our door and the champagne chilling and the lurve swans on the bed when we arrived. Because nothing says hot, sweaty love like swans made of towels. Jealous?
For the first few days, we barely left the room and kept the "No Molestar" sign on the day to discourage housekeeping from molestaring us. I'm sure, between the honeymoon banner and the constant "No Molestar" sign, everyone thought we were doing dirty things in there. They were right - we were doing the hottest thing you can do on your honeymoon. SLEEPING. FOR REAL. We were so effing tired it took us two days to even notice the view from our swim-out suite:
This is the pool our suite was on. We were sad at first that "our" pool did not boast a swim-up bar. That's before we ventured into the strangely murky pool which did have the swim-up bar, where frat boys would do 15 shots of tequila and then hunker down in a corner with their creepily billowing trunks to whiz in the pool. We did not return to the swim-up bar.
The beach - salty!
On our day trip to Xel-ha, you could molestar the dolphins for $150 USD. We snorkeled instead.
At Xel-ha, you can molestar the lizards for free.
"Where's the ladies shitter?" "I don't think they call it that in Mexico. Look for shitter mujeres."
On the same day trip, we went to the magnificant Mayan ruins at Tulum. I refused to follow our tour group because I'm a rebel! Plus I knew they wouldn't let me re-enact key scenes from Apocalypto with so many tourists around.
Katr scored by finding the part of the ruins where the Mayans sat down.
I got in the way of my own pictures. Why does it look like someone threw a glass of milk on my face? Biodegradable sunscreen. Am I turning you on?
How about now?
Almost every night at the resort, they had some kind of entertainment. It was usually nubile young Mexicans dancing in skimpy outfits. No complaints here. Except this part, where I complain about these outfits. What are these guys wearing? I had to order an extra pina colada just to deal with those ruffles. Plus all that junk in my face.
Our instructor, Jesus, was unwilling to be photographed before the tequila tasting.
Katr was a willing student. Donde esta la tequila, Katr?
One afternoon we came back to our room to find these same sex swans by our jacuzzi tub! Perhaps someone on the staff figured out that we weren't just fat sisters who liked to grab-ass in the pool? We left an extra big tip for housekeeping the next day.
Nice hat, Mayan.
I couldn't take any good shots at night. Because I'm an incompetent photographer? Yes. But also because I was drunk.
Man, registering for a honeymoon was the smartest thing we ever did. Our blissful two weeks in Cancun was the best wedding gift we could ever have received. Thank you so much to all of you who contributed!! We were a little sad to come home, but then again, we knew we were coming home to this:
And nothing softens the blow of a honeymoon ending like a cute pooch sacked out on top of a duck who's clearly saying "Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the poliiiiiiiice".
