We went skinny dipping today. It was unplanned, stupid, and dangerous—we did it in the ocean at midnight while drunk on the remote side of the island, with no sober adult supervision (because we were the adults). And some of us can’t swim.
So yeah, like I said, dumb and dangerous.
I don’t know who prompted it; I just knew none protested it. I even thought it would be a fun bucket list item to cross off—even when I am drunk, my Virgo’s brain still pushes itself through the tippy shyness. Minutes later, we were in the sea.
The pitch-black sea matched by the pitch-black sky matched by our mostly brown skinny dipping assess.
The only colour was from the colourful boat tied on the other side of the beach. I don’t know how long we were there, for it only managed to sober us up, and eventually, one of us got up; I also don’t know who.
I am now back in our room, writing to you while waiting for my hair to dry before jumping to bed. I could see the dawn breaking. It is safe. We are skipping the previously agreed-upon meeting for the breakfast plan. But the skinny dipping (I mean surviving to tell the tale of skinny dipping) was worth it.
Thank you, the protector of the Andaman Sea, for protecting our skinny dipping bane dumbasses
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