It’s been two weeks, so let’s catch up.

First, I had a great time in Jamaica. (and yes, Damon, I did wear the bathing suit. I also wore the board shorts. ) The wedding was beautiful and the resort was amazing. We stayed at Couples Tower Isle in Ocho Rios, which is a couples resort (if you couldn’t tell by the title). The bridal party had to get special clearance to allow singles to attend. I wasn’t sure of what my experience as a single at a couples’ resort would entail, but I decided to go for it anyway.

Now . . . I have to admit that Jamaica is not my favorite destination. I went several years ago, and I never had any plans to return. While there the first time, I felt like I always had to be alert. From the moment I deplaned, natives were aggressively clamoring for my attention — ultimately my dollar. Several times while there, I was warned to be careful. I was so mistrustful and mindful of my surroundings that I wasn’t able to relax. If I wanted to feel that way, there are plenty of neighborhoods in Chicago that I can visit for free.

This trip was different. The resort is private and all-inclusive. I’d heard mixed reviews about all-inclusives. A lot of people complain about the quality of the food, or the activities. I was pleasantly surprised. The food was good and very abundant (a little TOO abundant. Like, I gained-4-pounds-in-four-days, abundant). There were endless activities — free golf with caddies, waterskiing, scuba, snorkeling, etc.

Essentially, the resort set-up shielded me from all of the things that I don’t like about Jamaica, and provided more of what I do like — beaches, warm weather and activities. And yes, I did manage to have jerk chicken a few times. At the resort, of course. And don’t give me shit, people! I wasn’t there for a cultural immersion. I was there to relax and enjoy a wedding. Which is what I did.

Now . . . being a single at a couples’ resort is better than I thought. When I told my friends that I was going to Jamaica — specifically to a resort with nude sunbathing options — there were mixed responses. Jen was repulsed by the thought of free-range nudists. Stacey was convinced that I would get lots of requests for threesomes by gruesome, bored couples. Others asked me if I was going to get my groove back, Stella style.

I reminded them that getting her groove back in Jamaica wasn’t ultimately what it was cracked up to be for author Terry McMillan. So I promised, instead, that I wouldn’t have any threesomes, nor would I flirt with any sexually-confused men who were several years my junior. I kept those promises. Which was easy to do.

At a couples’ resort, all of the visitors are paired up, so nobody’s flirting with you. Additionally, the Jamaicans were unflirtatiously cordial and helpful. Bonuses, all around. I was able to hang out at the beach and pool, without concern about my looks or having to pay attention to my environment. If I could sneak into a couples’ resort again, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Funny stories, though . . . upon arrival at the airport in Montego Bay, guests have to check in at the resort area, and then they’re piled into a van to head to the resort. I was on the flight with a friend and his date, so there were three of us in our party, along with a couple that was on our flight. Having taken a 6:30 am flight, we were all too tired to talk during the van ride. When we made a pit stop during the two hour drive to the resort, we told them that we were going for a wedding, and explained the situation. They confessed that they thought we were going down as a threesome, which I found hilarious.

While at the resort, almost every woman in our large party managed to encounter a frequent guest named Fred. Fred’s claim to fame was having visited that resort 69 times — a number that sounded suspicious to me, but I didn’t question it. Fred and his large party were big fans of Tower Island, where all of the naked people hang out. (FYI, these weren’t the people that you wanted to see naked.)

Tower Island is about 100 yards off the coast of the resort. Close enough to see that people are naked, but far enough so that you can’t see specifics. There are boats that will take you and pick you up. The rule is that you have to be naked if you’re on the island. You’re able to walk to your seats in your bathing suit, but once you get settled, you have to strip down. Needless to say that I had no plans on setting foot on that island during nudist hours.

Fred lobbied for the contrary. And, by the way, I think there’s something a bit strange about going to a nude island with your spouse and 10 of your closest friends. Call me a prude. Whatever.

At one point, a woman in the naked party intimated that they did more than nude sunbathing on that island, but I didn’t want to go any farther with that visual. In fact, I still don’t.

Let’s just suffice it to say that I had a great time, and I was happy to watch one of my favorite couples begin a new phase of their lives.