We must have reached The Beach at about three or four in the morning. The sands were barren with no one else insight. Of course this was the moment we were all waiting for. Mike decided to grab his sleeping bag from the trunk and he quickly made tracks with Barbie. Debbie and I were all over each other, we began to discard one layer of clothing at a time. After all, the Pacific gusts kept the flesh cold and Mike made off with the only blanket available. As the sun began to rise our bodies began to acclimatize and more layers of clothing were shed. It was at this time that the tequila buzz was starting to wear off and I realized that I wasn't feeling all that well. When I noticed Debbie's pants had come off magically on their own accord I tried manfully to forget about my impending hangover. However, once her undies came off I caught a whiff of something fishy that did not emanate from the sea. When my sense of smell and sight returned I started to vomit.
Unfortunately, something that could have ended up as a magical experience ended up as a dismal encounter, with someone I hardly recognized once I became sober and hung over. Once again my sense of smell got the better of me. I can still remember that smell of stale perfume coupled with a fishy scent; it's even making me slightly woozy as I'm writing this.
The lesson I learned that night was to control my liquor intake to a realistic level and get to know a woman while my senses are functioning at their optimum level. My sense of smell, taste, hearing, sight and touch all have to be in agreement about my future mates. After all I want to make sure that I wind up with someone my senses will enjoy as much as the rest of me.