I was feeling a little ‘meh’ today.
I invited my vanilla ex out for an afternoon drink at the surf club where we can sit overlooking the beach.
Pinot grigio, idle conversation, humpback whales just off shore, a volleyball game with good natured kids going on just under the deck.
Whales! Seriously. Just off shore. I am so fucking lucky!!
All of this makes me happy.
I watch a boy playing volleyball below the deck where I am sitting. He is thin, he wears oversized sunglasses, long board shorts, a t-shirt, chin hair with no moustache. He is compelling. I can’t stop looking at him. He leaps easily over the fence to fetch the ball every time it goes out of bounds, he is uber sweet with younger kids, passing them the ball and encouraging them, he is playful with older folks getting in their faces all cocky-like, laughing.
Eventually the games end, the volleyball net is tied to the support right near me on the deck. He comes up to the deck to untie it. I watch him and after he has undone the rope, he passes right by me.
I reach out and grab his arm as he passes.
He looks at me quizzically.
I smile at him, “How old are you?”
He smiles back, “Nineteen.”
I nod and turn away. I feel him hesitate. A pause before he wanders off.
My vanilla ex laughs. “He thought he had it made for a second then!”
I laugh, “My next line would have been ‘I’m 47 years old’, that would’ve fixed it”
He grins and shakes his head.
I take another sip of my wine.