I've been to the island of Boracay a total of four times in my life.

The first was almost two decades ago when it was still immaculate, unspoiled. It was the time when you could get off a boat that docks at the beach front of your hotel (these days, you pass the not so pristine back). I remember it vaguely as I was still a little girl. It was the epitome of childhood summers: sandcastles, pink buckets, frilly swimsuits, happy family.

The second time I remember more, mostly due to silly embarrassment. Tradition has it that after you graduate from high school, and before you go on different routes of life, you and your friends have to create the most epic summer... WITH! BOYS!...

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