Tangalooma For Sun, Sea and Loved-Up Couples and Families

Beach volleyball, sunshine, blue water, string bikinis, scuba diving, quad biking, and every water sport you can imagine. Tangalooma Resort is for the young, the young at heart and anyone who loves island paradises.

It sounds like the advertisement from a brochure, right?

It could be.

I know the resort well, and what I tell you comes from first-hand experience being near the island resort. When I say near, I mean so close I could smell the coconut oil being applied to sun-kissed skin on the beach. But I wasn’t actually on the island, not always. I was anchored just offshore. I only went ashore to get a drink from the bar and to meet the lovely ladies on the beach.

My marriage was dry. When it became totally crispy, I left the drought behind, bought a yacht, and taught myself to sail. She didn’t mind. I was out of the house, away from her, learning something new and enjoying a new hobby.

I taught myself the ropes, then sailed to some of the prettiest places in the bay. One day, I stumbled onto Tangalooma, located just a whispy cloud away over the horizon. Once there, I was hooked.

Each weekend, if the weather was fair and breezy, I’d raise a sail, leave the mainland and watch the compass rotate east. Four hours later, when the water turned a nice shade of jade, I’d slow the boat and drop an anchor into the shallow waters near the resort. I knew the perfect spot too: opposite the bar and restaurant. The beach volleyball court wasn’t far either – three important locations necessary for proper girl fishing.

With binoculars in hand, I’d scope the shoreline for the game. Tall, short, young or old, blonde, brunette or redhead. It didn’t matter. I liked watching all the women. Some played ball games in bikinis, while others wore activewear and jogged along the sand. The beach was a smorgasbord of delicious femininity, and my eyes devoured it to their fill.

Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of one alone, looking out to sea.

She’d be the one in a floaty dress or a sarong. The breeze would press its fabric against her sweet body while it trailed away from her.

But girl-gazing was only the entrée to what would become the main course. I was hungry.

Tangalooma isn’t a singles club. It suits families, couples and newlyweds. Single people visit the island, but most of the ladies are already coupled. You’d think that put a block on men like me, but not all coupled ladies are happy. Some have been made to go to the island to resurrect something that should’ve died long ago.

That’s okay. I didn’t want to take them home. I only wanted to borrow them for a while.

Going ashore for lunch and sitting in the alfresco area let me slip into the holiday atmosphere. I could observe vacationers from beneath the raffia-covered umbrellas. Happy families, love-struck couples and newlyweds joined me to eat and watch the beach life unfold.

The woman I was looking for didn’t seem to care much for the ocean or the food. She was holidaying with someone she didn’t want to be with.

Body language.

She’d be the one with her arms folded, disconnected and unimpressed with the scenery. Internalised emotions would surface in her actions. There’d be a dipped head, little eye contact with her partner, and short answers. I could recognise the signs well. My wife modelled them often.

I didn’t care what they were fighting over. Friction meant that there was opportunity.

As much as this sounds like an easy setup, it’s still hit-and-miss.

Some of the silent conflicts I witness at lunchtime are fleeting. They don’t stay long enough to be beneficial at night. And some women just aren’t ready to teach their narcissistic partners a lesson. Never mind, there’s always another who’s had enough and is ready for excitement. When the system works, the rewards are worth it.

Darkness reveals the true extent of a couple’s troubles.

As mentioned, Tangalooma isn’t for singles. So if a solitary woman ends up walking by the water’s edge, she’s temporarily disconnected from someone, and for a good reason.

He’s probably watching football at the bar, too drunk or too distracted to care about her. He’s not going to worry. It’s an island. Where can she go?

Instead of sitting and feeling trapped and ignored all night long, she will get ,some fresh air, walk the beach and stare at the stars as though they might change for her.

She is as predictable as the wave meeting a shoreline.

That’s when the stars flicker differently and a chance meeting happens.

It’s only a short trip from the sand to the inside of my yacht. And if I provide the right sympathetic ear, the rest sorts itself out.

The next important step is to set her back down on the sand without anyone noticing. It’s not hard. Starlight won’t reveal the truth. I will tell her that everything will work itself out and that she’s not an evil or selfish person for wanting affection.

I’ll kiss her on the forehead, say goodbye, then turn my dinghy back toward the yacht. While she takes her time to make her way back along the beach, find the path that will lead her back to her room, I’ll raise the anchor.

If she suddenly felt guilty or considered a future with an unknown sailor, my yacht would be gone and over the horizon by the time she returned.

Love just isn’t my thing, not anymore. That stuff ruined me. I’m meant to give the ladies what they need, and  take a little piece for myself. As far as I see it, it’s mutually beneficial.

There is another bonus.

Those who were more frustrated and angry at their partners often had something to prove, and were highly appreciative of my efforts. They made me feel like a king again, and that counted. I lack that feeling with Samantha. At home, I’m just another piece of furniture collecting dust.

I’ve never felt shame for trolling Tangalooma’s beaches.

Nobody gets hurt, and everyone’s desires are met at a time when they need them most.

The conventional ways of love didn’t work. I love my wife, but that’s never enough. Nothing I did ever made her happy. Her unhappiness transferred to me.

Tangalooma puts a smile on my face. I get to control my space, make love to some of the most beautiful, appreciative women under the stars, and I feel better. Where is the shame in that?

You’re wondering if I caused them to break up?

Perhaps I did.

Break-ups happen with or without me.

Maybe I was the catalyst for change. It helped her decide sooner rather than later to leave him. Sometimes, all it takes is a stranger with a good ear and a kind smile to take the next step.

That’s also a good thing.

One way or another, things had a way of sorting themselves out.

-Mitchell Felding