Camping in the presence of the Orange Bikini

The kid and I went camping at Big Bear this weekend. It's an annual event organized by our friends Denise and Kevin. We've done it for years as a family, so it was incredibly weird doing it without Sandie.

The campsite next to ours contained a big group of perpetually drunk and half-naked college-age kids. As luck would have it, their site was right next to the water spigot. It was no coincidence, I think, that the guys in our group found as many excuses to do the dishes as possible. At one point, as I was coming out the bathroom, I discovered a blond in an orange bikini passed out on the picnic next to the spigot. I announced this and watched as the guys scrambled for soiled cups and plates. Then the blond leapt up and ran for the toilets and the hunt subsided.

As fate would have it, I was washing dishes when the blond returned for the john (I hid a stash of dirty cups for just such occasions). She was hammered, unaware that one of her boobs was hanging out, talking to her friend, saying, "Omygawd, sometimes I just like to sleep, ya know. I totally love lying on my back. Don't you?"

When I describe her, I don't mean to be condescending. Lord knows I spent many an evening in my youth passed out on picnic tables in orange bikinis, but as a newly minted single guy, I often wonder what I'm supposed to do next and the only frame of reference I have is college and, back then, Orange Bikini fell well within my acceptable target range.

I thought about this as I spent this weekend watching my daughter play with the other little kids. Occasionally, I joined in, knowing that the amount she wants me involved with these childhood games is already decreasing with every day.

I also mulled it over as, after all the kids were asleep, us old folks sat around the fire gorging ourselves on the smores and brownies we so meagerly rationed to our brood just hours before and cracking wise about current events, our misspent youth, literature and half a dozen other topics that would have bored the bottom off of Orange Bikini.

I've decided, for now, to hold off on dating, but when I'm ready, will I start where I left off and set my sights on Orange Bikinis? Is that what I want? From a raw, primal point of view, hell yes, but when I play it out, not so much. When the day comes that my dating world and my daddy world merge, I think it best that all boobs are accounted for and safely stowed until the appropriate time.

I have no idea what comes next.