Ah, the Caribbean! Think of it! (note: if not a man, imagine you are for maximum effect)

Sipping a cool piña colada as you recline on one of Gloucester Island's pristine white beaches. The barmy breeze warms your slowly browning belly as the pina colada cools it. Such a happy equilibrium, mayhaps one that can only be experienced when on vacation. But you are above all a man of action, so you leap gleefully onto your luxury yacht and navigate to a private cove of Isla del Oxford as your beautiful companion rubs coconut oil into the knotted masses of muscle that are your shoulders.

But finding Oxford too crowded, you turn to your lover and say, “Woman. I have always wanted to make love under the stars on the Trowbridge Attol, for the very name of it is sex itself.”

"But to me the name Bristol is like a fire in my pants," she says. "A fire that only the most powerful hose in the Caribbean can extinguish." A hint of the romantic moonlight plays across her deep hazel eyes as a blush as red as sunburn lights her impeccably high cheek bones.

"Bristol it is", you declare with the jaunty tone of a pirate of yore, etc.

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