“But it could be us…out there!” Photo: Kaloea
I feel this is something a lot of guys in relationships can relate to. I remember when I caught my first wave. The joy, the rush, the dissipation of any aquatic fear, and that’s just scratching the surface of how surfing improved my life. So why wouldn’t someone want to share that with their significant other? Of course there are women who try to get their men in the water, and they probably hear the similar excuses. But for my purposes…I’m going to speak from my own experience. Starting with:
But it’s so early…lets just stay in and cuddle.
I’ll admit it…I enjoy cuddling. It’s a healthy thing, and if you don’t enjoy it…well, I don’t even want to be your friend. However, the best conditions to surf are always early mornings right before the sun meets the horizon. There are less people, minimal wind, glassy waters. Not to mention it’s the absolute best way to start your day. Even when I tried my hardest to wake her up, she was an immoveable object. I don’t think Thor could get this girl out of the bed. So that only leaves one option. Give her a kiss on the cheek, say you’ll be back in two, three hours and listen to her mumble in her sleep.
“Okay, I love…”
“What? You love me?”
“Yea, sure.” She continues to snore with her mouth wide open.
It’s not until the drive back when I receive the all too common text: “Can you pick me up a bagel?”
“Sure.”
“…and coffee.”
“Yup”
“And don’t forget to get it toasted, last time you didn’t check and it was gross”
“Okay, I’ll make sure to check.”
Permission to pull my hair out, Brain? You are a go, Ali.
The water is so cold. I don’t want to be cold. I could wrap my girlfriend in a thermal astronaut’s blanket in 85-degree water and she will still complain it’s cold. I don’t know how someone who radiates more heat than a power plant can ever be cold…but she finds a way. To be fair, my nipples do get sensitive in cold surf and almost start bleeding. And God forbid suds hit the nips when I shower, then I start screaming like a Bald Eagle about to catch its prey. I try to explain to her there isn’t any water in Southern California that a 4:3 wetsuit couldn’t make comfortable, but alas my efforts are thwarted.
Desperation becomes a factor. I must resort to a strategy sleazy car salesmen use to sell you a ’98 Camry…The Bait and Switch. Where I simply say I’m bringing two boards because my buddy is coming to meet us, and when we get there:
“Oh no, he can’t make it…I wish there was someone here who can get in the water with me? Who could I possibly ask that is with me right now that I’ve been trying to get surfing? Oh I know, would you like to get in the water, baby?”
I think I needed a yardstick to measure how far those eyes rolled. Am I proud of lying, no? Will I do it again to get her in the water? Yup.
“Okay! Fine, I’ll go. There aren’t sharks, right?”
“Sweetheart, if you get attacked by a shark, then that’s just God’s plan for you.”
Be prepared for no sex and one-word answers for a week after that. But hey…you got her in the water!
