"I don't know how to come back from this..."
On a warm summer Saturday, I pulled on my bikini, not the red one, but another one, and headed to the beach. Jauntily, I walked down the dirt trail, an umbrella tucked under my arm and a romance novel stashed in my bag. Also, snacks. It’s important never to go to the beach without snacks. The gentle citrus scent of sunscreen surrounded me. Smells like summer.
(Pro tip, because I know you are here for the tips! Put sunscreen all over your naked body before leaving the house. This exercise prevents the possibility of weird lines and blotches of sunburn in the spots you missed. Also, sand and sunscreen are not super fun together! They are not.)
You were wondering about the bikini. Striped top, solid black bottoms. You can never go wrong with bright top, black bottoms, in my opinion. Also, anyone who won’t let you mix and match bikini parts is a fascist, and I reserve that term for the worst infractions, let me tell you. But I am wandering from the point.
In addition to my umbrella and my romance novel, I also carried my softtop, a lime-green Beater, encased in a thick patina of sun-baked wax. It’s far from stylish, but it’s easily carried. Toss it casually in the sand, it won’t even care. On a warm summer Saturday, I can’t be bothered with a surfboard that requires any sort of special treatment. Low-maintenance, that’s what I need.
And if I’m honest, I will say that I didn’t expect to see any waves worthy of an actual surfboard. I expected to lounge under my umbrella in my striped bikini top and solid black bottoms, and read my romance novel. This is a good life and I would recommend it to anyone. I figured maybe I’d go wade in the water when the sun hung high in the sky and the heat waves began to shimmer up from the sand. But I certainly didn’t think I would go surfing.
Then, peering out from under my umbrella, I noticed the tiniest bump in the water, not much more than a whale fart, if I’m honest. Perhaps I could surf these tiny bumps, I thought! Perhaps I could paddle my low-maintenance, lime-green softtop out into the sea and slide along the tiny summer waves in my mismatched, but perfectly matching bikini.
It turned out that I could. I slid along and giggled madly. Look at me, look at what I’m getting away with right now, going surfing on a random summer Saturday, wearing my bikini, on a surfboard that’s not even really a surfboard, but it works just fine. I sat there staring at the horizon, happily waiting for another little bump to arrive, so I could defy the laws of the physics and the seasons, and slide along on waves almost too small to even count as waves.
Suddenly I heard a voice. It was coming from somewhere right next to me. I’d been so distracted by the summer sun and infinite blue horizon that I’d allowed someone to drift up right next to me. This was a surprise, to be sure. I turned to look, and there sat a teenaged boy on a middle-sized surfboard of some kind. He seemed to be talking to me, so I tore my attention from the ocean’s bright expanse.
“You’re a kook!” he said.
This was not at all what I expected. I’d anticipated some sort of friendly greeting. Like, hey, how’s it going. Or, nice day, we’re having. Plainly, my expectations were totally out of alignment with the reality of the thing.
He called me a kook! Me! There I sat in my mismatched bikini — should I have worn the red one? Would my red bikini with matching top and bottoms make me less of a kook? I felt quite suddenly a deep anxiety. How had I gone so blissfully through life unaware of my status? All this time. A kook!
I don’t know how to come back from this, you guys. Do I just buy a house and move to the suburbs? Siri, what is the suburbs? How do you even buy a house. Maybe this is too complicated. Do I have to put my boards on Craigslist now, even the cute blue one and the other cute blue one? I don’t think I really want to put my cute blue boards on Craigslist, honestly. Perhaps there is an exorcism or a penance that can erase this blot from my soul.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I kept right on surfing. I wasn’t about to abandon all those cute tiny waves. I guess, if I’m going to be a kook, I might as well be a happy kook, is what I thought. So I kept sliding along, tan feet square on the lime-green deck, gripping the sun-baked wax, wearing my striped and solid bikini, floating over glittering blue.
A few gallons of petrol and a box of matches.
I please to aim!
Lesson learned, Jen. I never get called a kook in my red bikini.
Nice story, although you should have let me know you were in town…
As for the Red Hat, our little hamlet is invaded by RV’s this time of year, but there are few places for them to “camp”. The State took up an entire small highway for camper parking and left me no where to park to surf an entire stretch of decent beach break.
The State also took up the parking at another beach break that many of the films you’ve seen from SB county were filmed and now the hike in is ridiculous when the highway widening project was supposed to provide us parking. They put in a bike lane very few use and the widening project was promised to be completed by 2012…. broken funded promises.
The campers that can’t camp at the campgrounds roam around looking for a place to enjoy the beach, fair enough. The state fixed a failing sea wall with a new concrete ugly thing with parking lined, but the city of Ventura didn’t anticipate the amount of tourists flocking to the area because it had been quiet before this RV craze.
All I want is a parking spot that wasn’t a problem for 55 years of my life. The beach break is fun and picks up a south swell which is unique in these parts. Rarely crowded if anybody although the surf school thing has raised it’s ugly head.
No racism and the stereotype I used is accurate as all fuck because he is the stereotype and I didn’t confront him. And he’s not alone. Dozens of similar setups secure multiple dozens of limited parking with obnoxious displays of unneccessary stuff. An RV, trailing SUV, and game boards bar b que area for one family is selfish. I’m taking a petition to the city of Ventura to make this type of parking illegal and no one so far has objected to sign on party lines…. it’s a fucking problem.
As for his red face and hat, the dude is the same race as me, just has a huge boiler and isn’t aware of sun screen. And is angry that I moved the cones that secured his “kitchen”. If he wants to approach me with entitlement, he’ll get an earful.
Next time you’re around lets go for a surf.
worse than name calling is having someone splash water in your face after you ask them to stop snaking people. Like name calling it leaves you wondering how to react or not react. What could I do splash water back like a child? punch him like a aggro enforcer? no I just sat there flabergasted at his idiocy. I understand your frustration.
This teenager was definitely flirting hardcore – tanned surfy chick in bikini that can actually surf a little bit – omg omg say something cool, ok here I go “hi kook, i mean, you’re a kook, um… bye”. Probably paddled away after that.
My buddy recently was surfing a peak solo when this guy paddled out right next to him and told him to go in because He was a kook. My buddy went into lunatic mode, paddling straight towards him shouting that he has anger issues and this guy was going to find out about these issues. The guy paddled away frantically. This tactic definitely could have backfired but worked.
may not want to try that in Hawaii
Just keep the ace up your sleeve, or kini
Practice makes perfect. You’ve just got to figure out which cover-all-situations reply work best for you, and then repeat it until it is second nature.
My default reply to unexpected insults is “haha, good one!”.
To really make it work you have to stare back at them expectantly with a shit-eating grin waiting for their next retort.
Now that is an appropriate use of that word, kudos SSD.
Thank fuck there is not one dumb fucking comment from a He-Man promising to leap to the defence of the Fair Maiden Jee-See and administer a brutal pounding to the teenage runaway. Thank fuck BeachGrit is better than that.
Because when people do that on Facebook I want to kill them.
The things I’d let you do to me….
That’ll get him talkin
Pictures, or it didn’t happen.
What are suburbs, ya pillock.
Just snuck out between appointments on the parkway Jen, little wedges on the full tide and very mirrory. Little south is hinting in and no body out. BTW… he called me a laundry list of names, but his inflection on spitting out “liberal” was telling.
He was not wearing a red hat, but I suspect he forgot it at home.
Both of these anecdotes confirm that we all might still survive. The next generation is trying to (though perhaps misdirected) hold it down and locals are still harassing Bakersfield interlopers. We can rest easy. For a while.
We’re trying. FIngers in the dyke….
I didn’t have thoughts of your bikini choice until you brought it up. Then I was like holy shit this one of those editorial campaigns for chaturbate for surf journo’s clogging up the line up and internet in one romance novel! Sorry thought I’d bring it up before Wigg’s..
Nah, no one cares. I am so physically mediocre that my nudity is simultaneously totally inoffensive and utterly unnoticeable. Like seeing a crow and thinking ‘oh, there is a crow’ before continuing to go about your business.
Oh Jen it’s obvious.
The one word that will cut any teenage boy or twenty something deeply, saved for special occasions.
Incel.
This line alone is worth a Pulitzer – “I noticed the tiniest bump in the water, not much more than a whale fart”. I’ll never look at a 1′ wave the same again.