...eventually got all the respect by the tall ones.  Something 'bout proportion - that's all I'm sayin'.

Even so, taller is my type. Together you want to look good in the pictures, you know?  I've got a big reunion coming up. I'm being picky. But in the middle of wallflowering, Lucky nudges me at the barbells on the back porch and I agree to an outing after my workout.  A nice walk and a Corona by the marina, where the Coast Guard guys hang out.

While drying off, I have a fashion crisis.  I have curly hair. 

It’s just before rainy season on the island and the sky can be unspeakably clear blue one minute and deluge the next. The weather is very unpredictable in the late summer and early fall. Clouds blow over the island quickly dumping billions of heavy raindrops that splash on the pavement into vapors of steam.  And then off they go, leaving the air (and hair)  thick with a lurid humidity under the insistent tropical sun.

Will the sailors think less of me, pawin around with this...this...critter-dog?

I decide against the low-slung jeans, though not so easily.  Little dogs, at least the ones' I know, tend to scratch up my legs, so we venture together this first time at my peril.  I don’t intend on picking up Lucky…this is an alpha outing.  Should our relationship go further, I might scoop him up. But rest assured, there will be no kissing on this first date.

Low-slung jeans and a white-t would balance the man-toy pairing but its way too humid and hot. So its quick dry shorts and a tourist tank. All fashion (and other) statements of masculinity will have to be made with the leather leash.

I look like a dork. I mean, look at him.  Ay, caramba.