uptempodemonplumsauce: "He's so cute! Like an old turtle without his shell!"

...is what I tell Stella when I spy the bronzest, most wrinkly naked man I've ever seen.

Bestie Beach Day!

Sept 17, Sunday

ITS SO BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE!!!!!! Good thing it's BEACH DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stella and I had the best of intentions to wake up and be out of the house by 1030. Then we woke up at 1030. Because we're on vacation! Yay!

There are a millions reasons I love beach days. One big reason is it looks like you're doing something but you're really doing nothing. As someone who's obsessed with "doing", it's a clever way to get me to relax.

We go to Mar Bella so I can show my boobs to the sun. I see topless sunbathers here and there at other beaches on the way, so we really could have gone anywhere but I've got Mar Bella stuck in my head as our destination.

Trying to help the girls defy gravity

We settle in on the "clothing optional" side. It's the gay beach so there are more men than women and more naked men than naked women. But altogether, way more suited people than nude people.

Stella and I name the people around us:

The Turtles, older bronze men with wrinkled skin suits

The Peacocks, men who strut around, brazenly daring the world to bask in the glory of their bodies, no matter how bright and round their bellies are

The Creepers, men who sit and stare around with weird looks on their faces (there is only one of these)

The Wows, suited men with perfect bodies playing paddleball or bending over to order a cocktail at the bar or basically existing in their lean, beautiful, boy bodies.

There's the Creeper

Question: Are gay beaches the best?

Hypothesis: Gay beaches are The Best beaches in every way.

Evidence:

-A collection of the best looking, perfectly built, beautifully groomed, most stylish men hang out wearing very little, very well.

-The men do not bother the women. At all. We feel zero percent threatened here, zero percent exposed, which does not happen in a bikini on any random beach, ever.

-There are no children, so there is no crying or screaming. It's peaceful. It's quiet.

-Men cuddling men is a beautiful sight. I didn't see any women couples, but I wish I had.

-The bar makes gorgeous cocktails.

Conclusion: Gay beaches ARE the best beaches in every way.

My favorite Turtle is in that group of men

The first pair of balls I see is an adjustment but, just like going to the Korean Day Spa, you get desensitized quickly to the nudity, including your own. I do have a moment where my hat flies away and I have to jump up and run after it bare-breasted in which I'm very aware that I'm topless. Alluring bouncy boobs are a Playboy magazine myth. Real bouncing boobs are uncomfortable and unwieldy. I don't see any naked man jogging around and I suspect it's because their bouncing penis and balls would be as uncomfortable and unwieldy as my boobs were.

I find myself endeared to most of the naked men, minus The Creeper and minus the man who inspires me to say out loud, "I just saw my least favorite penis." (It's very long and frightening.)

Coupla Wows!

All the nude dudes looked like giant hairy toddlers. It's cute...

After a few hours in the sun, Stella and I hit It's Gay for food because I saw some incredible looking dishes there (not intended as a pun, but hey!) earlier as I stood in line for cocktails. I see The Boss (burger covered w Iberico Jamón, manchego and carmelized onions. HelLO, right?!) and point it out to Stella because it sounds DAMN GOOD. Now she wants The Boss. The conversation goes like this:

B: Maybe I'll get a salad (they also looked incredible) and we can split both.

S: You should order what you really want to eat.

B: ...That means you don't want to share with me, right?

We burst out laughing because we both know it's true. We both order The Boss and annihilate our burgers.

Stella and her Estrella

That evening we walk to the Magic Fountain of Montjuïc for it's show. The water and light show is highly recommended and is considered a must-see. I don't care that much about it, but we saw fireworks from our balcony last night and I assume they were part of the Saturday show. I also assume they don't do fireworks Sunday, but Stella really wants to see some so I don't say anything. At least going to the Magic Fountain gets us out of the house. Whatever. Meh. Fine.

I HAVE A SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE AT THE MAGIC FOUNTAIN SHOW! When we arrive, we find THOUSANDS of people waiting for the show to start. The energy is rad- all ages, all walks of life, all nationalities, ready and enthused. I love being surrounded by life like this.

Stella and I sit on the ground at the foot of the Palace stairs. You've got your usuals surrounding the fountain with their phones up, pre-filming the water. I make fun of them, crowding around a fountain to try to capture something that, like, who cares? It's a fountain show. Those pictures will just take up space.

Minds. Blowing.

A Queen song starts. The fountain starts. The lights start. All of humanity surrounding the Magic Fountain collectively loses its mind.

Stella and I stand up and weave our way in front of the camera people. We become camera people! And I get it! Obviously, we all take pictures of everything all the time, but this is more than that. You know it's a fountain and the pictures won't scratch the surface of how beautiful the show is. But you try anyway because you're not trying to capture the beauty of the spectacle, you're trying to capture the beauty of how elated, pure, alive and awesome you feel. At least, I am.

Not even scratching the surface of magic

I behold the show with a big wide open smiley mouth I can't even try to close. Stella and I sing and dance to the medley of pop songs, and sway and move to the music when it turns classical. At one point I promise Stella and myself that I'm putting my camera away unless I hear a Prince song. No Prince (sadly) but I can't help myself and I start filming the water in Slo-Mo. Just for fun. Then I film Time Lapse. Just to see. Then I take myself right to the ropes of the fountain and commune with it. I let my mind go blank and I let myself get lost in the music, the lights, the water.

I do this until, like a temperamental artist, the fountain starts to spray everyone within 10 feet of it. I don't know if the wind changed, or what, but it was a badass move in any event. We all cleared to give the fountain its space, and it continued to dance for us.

What a wild time. I never thought I'd get so moved my a fountain show, but that's Barcelona, man.

"Another GREAT day!" Stella says as we turn out the lights. "Yes!" I agree.