We just go surfing.
I won't wake you with breakfast in bed. I'll wake you with my alarm
clock and the leave you to hug to hug the duvet while I get the dawny. You think that's cold? Try hitting the Atlantic before sunrise. I'll take our a long walk down the beach, but with my mates - in the only non-homoerotic way possible. We're not about boxes of chocolates. We're about chocolate coloured boxes draining onto filthy sand-banks. A candle lit dinner can wait. I've got an evening glass off to think about. It's daylight hours, and that means I can surf. So I will. You want me to put on a sharp suit and meet you with a bunch of flowers? I think I look pretty damn sharp in this wetsuit here, and I'll leave the flowers on the bush that grew them. Do you want to know what I'm think about? It's not our relationship.
It's my relationship. With a particular wave. It's complicated. And I
don't want to talk about it.
It's not a special day. It's a day invented by Nestle, Hallmark and florists. I don't know anyone who works for them, so they can chuck. It's the same thing year after year. DJ's yap on about it because they have nothing better to talk about. Shops put up pictures of hearts (more on this below). They seem to think I should buy their stuff because they didn't get to flog it at christmas. F*ck off - I was surfing over christmas. Like i'm surfing now. And the only thing I need is another board in my quiver. And maybe a set of fins or two. And actually, my wetsuit is pretty ropey. Ok, so there's a bunch of stuff I need. But none of it involves a pink ribbon, so you can keep that stuff on ice, thanks.
The 'heart' shaped image. Seriously what does this look more like?
A human heart? Or does it look like another part of the anatomy? Like one that we might (yes, only might) see more often? Unless you're a thoracic surgeon. Turn it upside down if you're still not convinced. Now, that that's apparent, I think I like it a bit more. So, now you know what I'm smiling about when I cruise down the street. Know that I'm sniggering if you have on of these in your email, you Facebook wall, or any other place where you're trying to showing endearment. Baboons show endearment in a similar simian way. When cats do it they're usually telling you to f*ck off. As cats do. So they can f*ck off themselves.
There is something that's not the same as last year. I'm not talking about my hairline, or the sound my car is making now. I'm talking about the surf. It's different every year, every day of every year. And that's why I need to be on it. The surf doesn't have a calendar. There's no box on a day in February that's got little hearts and stars penned in around it. It doesn't pause and look at that day, and go: whoah, that's a special day, maybe I should give the guys a day off to pamper their missus. No, it just carries on by itself. Like it does during your aunt's birthday, and your cousin's welcome-home-from-jail party. And because it doesn't care what I'm busy with, I need to pay very careful attention to it. It just does not give a damn about the trials of my life.
You may be the best thing in my life. But, don't get comfortable in that position. Complacency is a bitch. And bitches must tsek. If there's a good sized swell running and gentle offshore somewhere on this blessed peninsula, you'll find yourself in second spot. If only for a few hours. The best text I receive isn't a random 'thinking of you honey', it's a random 'thinking you should get your ass in gear, it's cooking bru.' And I can't plan things like that. They just happen. That means it's unscheduled me time. You'll just have to live it. Or find a boyfriend who plays golf. They stick to schedules. Apparently.
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| More fun than a cuddle. credit |
It's not a special day. It's a day invented by Nestle, Hallmark and florists. I don't know anyone who works for them, so they can chuck. It's the same thing year after year. DJ's yap on about it because they have nothing better to talk about. Shops put up pictures of hearts (more on this below). They seem to think I should buy their stuff because they didn't get to flog it at christmas. F*ck off - I was surfing over christmas. Like i'm surfing now. And the only thing I need is another board in my quiver. And maybe a set of fins or two. And actually, my wetsuit is pretty ropey. Ok, so there's a bunch of stuff I need. But none of it involves a pink ribbon, so you can keep that stuff on ice, thanks.
The 'heart' shaped image. Seriously what does this look more like?
A human heart? Or does it look like another part of the anatomy? Like one that we might (yes, only might) see more often? Unless you're a thoracic surgeon. Turn it upside down if you're still not convinced. Now, that that's apparent, I think I like it a bit more. So, now you know what I'm smiling about when I cruise down the street. Know that I'm sniggering if you have on of these in your email, you Facebook wall, or any other place where you're trying to showing endearment. Baboons show endearment in a similar simian way. When cats do it they're usually telling you to f*ck off. As cats do. So they can f*ck off themselves.
There is something that's not the same as last year. I'm not talking about my hairline, or the sound my car is making now. I'm talking about the surf. It's different every year, every day of every year. And that's why I need to be on it. The surf doesn't have a calendar. There's no box on a day in February that's got little hearts and stars penned in around it. It doesn't pause and look at that day, and go: whoah, that's a special day, maybe I should give the guys a day off to pamper their missus. No, it just carries on by itself. Like it does during your aunt's birthday, and your cousin's welcome-home-from-jail party. And because it doesn't care what I'm busy with, I need to pay very careful attention to it. It just does not give a damn about the trials of my life.
You may be the best thing in my life. But, don't get comfortable in that position. Complacency is a bitch. And bitches must tsek. If there's a good sized swell running and gentle offshore somewhere on this blessed peninsula, you'll find yourself in second spot. If only for a few hours. The best text I receive isn't a random 'thinking of you honey', it's a random 'thinking you should get your ass in gear, it's cooking bru.' And I can't plan things like that. They just happen. That means it's unscheduled me time. You'll just have to live it. Or find a boyfriend who plays golf. They stick to schedules. Apparently.
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