It started with one perfect spoonful of mango gelato, barefoot on volcanic sand, under a soft amber Tenerife sunset. For the first time in months, I felt like I belonged to myself.
That’s why I booked this solo trip — to finally take up space without asking permission.
Dinner that evening was at my resort’s all-inclusive, communal-style dining room. I didn’t mind sharing a table; after all, strangers make for easy, temporary company.
I ordered grilled fish, roasted vegetables, and saved my excitement for the dessert: tiramisu.
Miguel, my friendly waiter, delivered it with a wink — cocoa-dusted perfection.
But then the hostess arrived with my tablemates: a glossy catalog family — Mom, Dad, and three kids in matching polos.Read More Below
