One of the best things about living on Cape Cod is access to all the beautiful places. Beaches, beautiful scenery, quaint towns and amazing restaurants are minutes from you. One of the problems of living on Cape Cod is that you never see them.
Four to Six months out of the year, my hometown paradise is over run with crazy tourists. They make it their job to drive us locals crazy. Clogging up the roads, restaurants and scenic sites. Yes, I know that they bring their money and that's how our little piece of utopia survives. But, why must they be so messy, nasty and bitchy. This is why I hid in my house during the summer months. It's safe, quiet and I'm not being crowded by Joe Blow and his family of 6 kids that think its fun to feed the seagulls on the beach. Unfortunately, Joe doesn't realize that seagulls are like rats. If you feed one, he will bring the rest of his crew. All 100 of them. They will hover over you and shit everywhere. Can you tell this is my number 1 peeve about tourists!
On Sunday, TW and I became accidental tourists. After brunch, we drove down Cape to hang out at one of our favorite beaches. Obviously, it was too chill for a dip. But, we hung out in parking lot on top of the cliff that over looks the beach. After about 15 minutes or so, we left and started driving back towards the main road. Instead of taking the left turn that would bring us back towards home, Big K decided to make a right. This would be our MO of the next 4 hours. We drove all the way up to Provincetown and hit all the scenic spots: Highland Lighthouse, Race Point, the National Seashore and downtown Provincetown. In the 11 or so years that Big K and I have been a couple, we have never been to Provincetown together.
Provincetown, or Ptown, as we locals fondly refer to it, is the gay capital of the Northeast. During the summer, the main street is teeming with handsome, scantly clad, gay men. It is Mardi Gras every day. Even if you are weary about venturing into man town, Ptown is a place you should visit before you die. It is similar to Key West, but without the tropical feel and ten times as crazy. But in the winter, Ptown is a ghost town, nary a cross dresser in sight. While I love the frantic summer days and the beautiful, ungettable men in tanktops, I love the quiet that is classic Cape Cod. It was lovely. Strolling the historic streets, hand in hand with TW, was the most romantic thing we had done in awhile. It was even more romantic when I dragged him into here:
My favorite place in the whole wide world! Toys of Eros. The classiest, craziest, erotica boutique around. They had some vintage vibrators, y'all! I was totally impressed! I finally got myself a new wet and wild toy (mine has been broken for months. Morning showers just aren't the same without it) and TW bought me the latest and greatest toy on the market. (my review will be posted later this week, lovers). I will be returning to this mecca of smooching men and toys very shortly with Firecrotch as I was horrified to discover she only owns one toy. I can't even begin to imagine the torture. She has never been to my favorite place and it will be an adventure. How many erotica store owners will tell you to call them if your dissatisfied with your purchase or have any questions? I don't even get that type of service from my drycleaner.