Note to self: Before you give a guy your number and make a beach date do 2 of two things 1. Have him stand up from behind the bar you met him at so you can see whether he is 5 foot 4 with a hyperextended back due to beer belly. 2. Make sure he didn’t star in the 1980s classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
I was having Tapas at a local restaurant a month ago and as I went to the bar to pay my bill due to the lack of service on the slutty waitresses part I noticed a good looking surfer type at the bar. Good looking is all I need to walk over and say hello. There he was, blonde and tanned. I rush right over. “I feel like you should be on the beach in Hawaii with a surf board in your hands” I tell him, never one to screen my thoughts before I blurt them out. He introduces himself and we banter for a few minutes. He tells me he loves my Native dreamcatcher feather earrings, they are very “spiritual”. I’m sold right there. An ugly homeless guy could walk up to me and play the flute and I would fall in love.So we arrange to tentatively hang out sometime in the next week.
After a busy two weeks I have the Monday of the long weekend free so I am going to the beach with my ultra amazing friends J and M. They are a couple and have an adorable yappy Pomeranian who is prone to stealing your pillow while on the beach. I hope they have left him at home today.
I arrive to his house and he stands from behind the kitchen counter to greet me. He is five foot nothing. GREAT. I have a 6 foot four minimum requirement. As we chat and I watch him I am getting impatient fast. He moves slower than a sloth. Somehting is wrong. Please note this guy is supposedly a $75 dollar an hour personal trainer yet he doesnt have the strength to cut his slab of disgusting cheddar cheese.
“Want some?” he offers. Umm no thanks i want to go to the fucking beach before sunset I think. He is finally ready after a half hour and we hop in his car and go. He tells me a story about how he went to a concert recently. “I smoked whatever they were passing around, got so drunk I crawled to my sister’s van at 10pm and passed out in front of it”. Just fucking great. A forty four year old alcoholic. Add him to my ever growing list of drunken 4o something exes. This is gonna be a fun day. After we park he pulls some beer out of the cooler. “I have to hide these in my towel, you can’t bring beer onto the beach anymore” I am mortified beyond belief at this point.
We arrive and I make the introductions. After a while I huddle with J and M in the water. They agree that a 44 year old sneaking beer onto the beach is a very bad sign. We agree that he is not coming to dinner with us and I will make an escape route story. Before I make my escape we all go for a long swim out to the pier. He lags behind badly and just stands on the pier looking like a stoned surfer who.. well.. has just smoked too much Hydro. “Thats not fair.. you have floatation devices… you have an advantage” he shouts to me from a very far distance, referring to my oversized breast implants. Please keep in mind this is a “personal trainer” who is almost ready to drown in Lake Erie.
After he drops me off and I get out of his car he goes for the awkward first date kiss. I turn my cheek and give him the “don’t text me I’ll text you” line. I meet up with J and M for dinner.
“You know” my friend M begins. “If they have a Fast Times at Ridgement High reunion, he can play Spicolli”. I practically spit out my water. I disn’t see the resemblance before. A tanned, bleached blonde washed out stoner. Yup I just spent the day at the beach with jeff Spicolli.
The next day I am at Starbucks sitting on the john and hear the familiar ring of my Blackberry BBM. It is my friend M and he is being a joker. There’s a picture of Jeff Spicolli. It is a good thing I was already on the john because I laughed so hard I peed. If you don’t have friends in your life like the ones I have then I suggest you get some. And if you have never spent the day on the beach with Spicolli. I suggest you keep it that way!
sarahsadventures81 