Sweet Swell

Chapter 1

Summer had just begun and I was ready to begin living. To proverbially seize the day. Carpe diem was the name of the game and I was all in. 

Have you ever had that fantasy about going on this amazing holiday to some tropical destination where the water’s tanzanite blue, the sand’s cloudy white, all the drinks have umbrellas and give you that awesome buzz, and the perfect guy is just there, stretched out on a deck chair all tan and beautiful, smiling ever so sweetly in your direction?

The guy. The summer romance guy and potential Mr Right guy. The one who’ll take your breath away, swoop you up into his arms and carry you into the sunset telling you how smoking hot you look in your hella expensive bikini from like Donna Karan which you spent all year working out to fit into without that muffin top showing. I sure as hell have. I have prepared for this encounter year upon year upon year.

And I'm still waiting. Unfortunately, this story isn't going to go down that road. Sorry to disappoint you, ladies. Don't get me wrong, I wish I could follow that sparkly bedazzled little yellow brick road, but let's face it, we live in the real world.

Let me give you a bit of background here and set the summery scene. I actually live in this idyllic “tropical destination” where all the “magic happens”. I’m from a town called Ballito on the east coast of South Africa in Kwazulu-Natal. It’s quite close to Durban if anyone knows. Or cares. Whatever. It’s all surf, sand and sun here. Essentially year-round.

I both love it and hate it, but I have to say, living here is pretty surreal. Despite what you all may think, meeting Mr right out here is much harder than you’d actually expect. Mainlanders stir up things every year when holidays roll around, but those romances never last. I mean what person our age can seriously pull off long distance anyway? To those of you that can - all the power to ya! Ps: you’re missing out.

Guys out here aren’t exactly what you’d call “into monogamy”. They cheat. A lot. It’s sad, but then again, this is real life hey.  I guess it’s on account of half naked girls in bikinis running around all the time distracting their already tiny teenaged brains.

My best friends say all the blood from their heads go to their crown jewels whenever they become aroused, causing them to lose all sense and logic. I checked this out online and turns out they’re right. Men are basically slaves to their own genitalia…gross, I know. 

So let me get to the point. Summer. It had arrived. My late-night Pilates sessions by myself in my room were starting to pay off. I had been replaying the loungechair-guy-scene in my head for months, hoping and wishing that this summer my turn would roll around and I would finally meet him. My bikini was begging for wear and the waves were calling me. School was out and I was ready as ever to seize that day of mine.

My girlfriends and I had already planned our holiday, and we were psyched! All of us would bring our surfboards, and we’d spend our days on the beach, having bonfires every night and just soaking up summer. Oh it was a summer to remember alright.

Soon after the holidays had begun, mainlanders started pouring in to the coast hoping to catch some rays. Pasty-skinned and heavily accented. We weren’t big fans. It’s a classic case of in-group out-group social identity theory psychology, but let me not go full nerd here. Let’s just say it’s a common phenomenon. We don’t mix all that readily.

Luckily, the locals have a spot called Leeu’s Kuil where we hang out to escape crowds. We just call it Leeu’s. The beach is sort of small, but it’s ideal. The surf’s great, it’s secluded, it’s private, and we feel like the place belongs to us.

The reason tourists don’t know about the place is because it’s basically enclosed by high cliffs at both ends and the only path down to the beach is pretty overgrown, and a good ten minutes’ walk through a thick overgrowth.

I love going there even during off season. It’s like a haven where everything that you take in with you stays there, safely and securely, and you always leave feeling lighter and more hopeful about the future. So like Vegas without the shotgun wedding.

Early one Friday morning my friends and I headed down to Leeu’s to start our weekend. There was going to be a huge bonfire that night and loads of local surfers were getting together.

“Tristan’s going to be there tonight,” Laurie nonchalantly stated as we fought our way down the badly overgrown forrest path.

“Great, the devil himself,” Tamra answered while smacking a huge fern out of her way. Tristan was like the guy. The guy from the fantasy with the body, the face, the smile. All that. The thing with Tristan was just that he was a dog with eyes for every bitch. The bitch didn’t even need a pedigree.

Laurie dated him for a year and found out on graduation that he had been two- or shall I say several-timing her with multiple other girls. There’s no excuse for either party, as Laurie and Tristan were an exclusive and out-there couple. Everyone knew Tristan was spoken for and yet those girls threw themselves at this cheating, worthless idiot. Long story short, we all hate him. 

Unlucky in love is like the story of our lives when it comes to my girlfriends and I.

“Guys at this stage in their lives just can’t be serious when it comes to relationships,” Lissa sighed.

“Hell, we’ve established that,” I chimed in. Don’t get me started on my failed attempts at relationships.

“If you don’t put out, he goes to someone else. If you put out, he still goes to someone else,” Laurie cried out frustratedly.

“Story of my fucking life. It’s a catch 22,” I mumbled. “At this point in the average adolescent boy’s life, it’s all about sex. You know, quantity over quality. They just haven’t realised that quality is what they’re missing out on,” Lissa explained. We all nodded our heads in unison. There was no denying it, relationships had left us brokenhearted in the past, and the future wasn’t looking all that bright in terms of love.

Unlucky in love sure was a bother alright, but don’t get me wrong, we didn’t let it run our lives at all. Independence was ours and we were all for it! None of us needed a man in our lives. We had each other and our whole lives were ahead of us, just waiting to be molded into fantastic success stories.

This thought hit me right as we reached the edge of the forrest path and felt the soft sand beneath our feet.

“Another day in paradise girls,” Tamra announced with a bright smile. Without a word we kicked off our flip flops and started running towards the water, stripping down to our swimsuits as we ran.

This is what it feels like to be alive, I thought to myself. This was our time, and we weren’t letting anything get in our way. No Tristan, no broken relationship, and most certainly no broken heart.