Mahalo, I'm Sure

Once again, I'm embarking on the admittedly pathological need to isolate myself by looking into a solo trip to Hawaii. It would be nice to go with someone else, but then I'd have to coordinate with their schedules, confer on hotels, and compromise on activities. Pros include someone else to drive, a cheaper hotel fee, and a friend to hang out with. I don't know. I thought it might be a nice thing to do for my thirtieth birthday, but it might not be as pleasant in Oahu in October as it is in April. I'm pretty sure I can't go in April this year, which bites, but hey, what can you do? Maybe I'll just go to a day spa or jump off the Empire State Building. Scratch that last part. Thirty's not so bad. It doesn't make any sense to me, aesthetically, but I accept it chronologically.

Besides, I can't see bringing three people to Hawaii with me, and if I ask one person, at least one other person will feel slighted. Hey, I know, what if I can russle up a boyfriend by October? That would be pretty good. But still, compromises, conferences and agreements. Yuck. I'll just go by myself and pick up an army boy at a nightclub like I did last year.