I can’t get it out of my head. Surfing for me right now is like that crush in middle school who kind of liked you back but was a seventh grade boy so inherently unreliable. Some days, you are super confident and he’s noticing that cute floral dress you bought at Express. And when you were trying it on you had the secret hope that maybe he would say something. But then two weeks later, you wear the same dress, and he barely even looks at you the whole day.
Last Saturday, I went out, and I was killing it, catching waves all over the place in some tiny crappy surf. It wasn’t the most exciting session, but it was fun, and I was feeling great. Then on Sunday, it all turned around. I was just hanging out, not catching anything. I could blame it on the waves or the on-shore winds, or something. And I’m sure those factors are most of the issue, but I’m sometimes still an insecure middle-schooler who wonders what exactly I did wrong and how to get his attention again.
So I have spent most of this week watching surf videos of the best female surfers in the world. And they make it look so easy. Surely I can surf just like one of those women who train every day and have been surfing since they were able to walk. Right? It’s like trying to get the same amount of attention as the girl who got boobs first, and who seems to know how to carry herself while the rest of us were still figuring out how to fasten our training bras without having to put the hooks in the front and then turn it around.
This weekend, I will still go out, and I will put on my cutest bikini, knowing that I do have the chance to get that gawky pre-teen’s attention. But by the time he’s interested, I’ll have moved on to bigger and better waves who will cherish me a bit more. But I’ll still know that I want to impress the hell out of the first one, the one that goes in and out of my affections.