I call all of our vacations honeymoons. I’m hoping to recreate whatever lovey-dovey look we had which encouraged people to treat us specially when we were on our original honeymoon in Peru. It doesn’t work. On our flight to Peru we were given a free cocktail. The hotel we stayed in baked us a “Honeymoom” cake.
Since then we have been to Jamaica, Scotland, Mexico, San Antonio, Ireland, and now San Francisco and not one single person has asked us if we’re on our honeymoon. And we milk it too. We make sure to hold hands in the airport, I rest my head on his shoulder when it's cocktail time on the plane, Jonathan always puts his arm around me when we’re checking into hotels, but it’s fruitless.
I guess we've lost that loving feeling. Or we aren't 23 years old anymore. Whichever.