There are so many choices of where to stay in Costa Rica, and as expats, we unfortunately didn’t get out of town as often as we should have. One exception: Playa Guiones, about two hours south of Coco, is a famous surfing haven nestled on Nicoya Peninsula’s western coast, next to Playa Nosara. And where there are packs of men hitting the waves, there are single women from no man’s land vying for some male attention. If you’re smart like us, that is. Thus, Denise, Alicia and I headed south, with a cooler full of beer, a few string bikinis, and a reservation at the Casa … Romantica.
First, we had a pit stop in Pinilla with our new friend Royce. Royce was a friend of a friend of mine from California who had just a few days before met Denise while golfing at the Four Seasons. Not ones to fight all signs pointing to a mixer in Pinilla, we stopped off for a half day of socializing with guys our own age. (Living in a tiny town makes you appreciate the simplest of pleasures.) By the end of the day, we’d rapidly met no less than about 10 surfer guys (more? Who knows) and garnered an invitation to stay the night so we could go for drinks at the Beach Club. Score! But the three intrepid man-hunters made a quick decision. It was adventure we seeked. Onward!
The next day, we stocked up on dresses and bathing suits in town, stopped off for ice cream, and tanned ourselves on the beach. By nighttime, we were ready for La Banana. Alas, our hopes were dashed by a lackluster scene, so we headed instead to Kaya Sol, which we loved. Within minutes of sidling up to the bar, we were surrounded by polite men asking what we drank. Romantic order was restored! (Men of Coco, repeat after me: boy likes girl, boy buys girl cocktail.) The boys, all friends from Virginia, were 24, which was a bit young, but we rolled with it… all the way to Tropicana. Hours of drinks, salsa dancing and all kinds of shenanigans that can only happen at a place that greets customers with a drunk patron throwing up on your shoes (poor Alicia), and we almost didn’t want to leave.
The next morning, Alicia and I hit breakfast while a smitten Denise took off for a solo stroll on the beach to look for last night’s man. I struck up a conversation with a strapping solo traveler named Dave. Single, older than 24, (thank you, NYC), employed, he was a dream come true, hitting Guiones for his second Costa Rican surfing trip in a month. Later, at the pool, I looked up to find Denise and her brand-new teeny bikini swooping in on my man, but divine intervention struck. Her man from last night had arrived to find her! I wiggled on over to Dave, Denise made a lunch date with her guy, and Alicia was again on the prowl. (We may or may not have found out then that the “24-year-olds” were only 19. I don’t want to talk about it.)
Alas, Denise’s homeboy never came back for his date, so the boy-crazy trio checked out of their Casa Romantica and headed to the famous Gilded Iguana for lunch and afternoon cocktails. And who did we find there? A ripped, age-appropriate fireman who’d been eying Alicia. Denise and I had one sarpe (technically “last drink,” but there are always several – or many) after another while playing cupid. We finally left for home, giddy from all the male attention that just does not exist in Coco.
Epilogue: Alicia and Bombero (fireman) had a real live date the next day, before he headed back to California. They still talk and are making plans for a March rendezvous.
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