Oh I forgot this part, probably because my hands were full, literally, and I didn’t notice it myself. White Village is a bunch of cottages right on the bay side and lots of people who stay there come with their boats to take advantage of the blues and stripers running that time of year. My sister said the guys on the beach were just staring at me with their mouths open as I came practically flying out of bay, salt water spraying up all around me, with my girl in one hand and a striped bass in the other. I’m sure it was an interesting sight for sure. I kind of strutted rather peacock like around the beach the rest of the day. What can I say, I was young and in my defense rather tired of the glares I often got from all the macho dudes and family folk who practically wore signs saying why don’t you take your butch ass to Provincetown where you belong. Because this is infinitely more affordable for me you homophobic assholes.
Actually I ended up going there for the same two weeks for years and made tons of friends who went the same weeks. The fishermen would cook their catches at night and bring me some to enjoy. And when lobster fishermen would come by selling cheap, the guys would come and find me to make sure I got my chance to buy some.
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