Surfelport.com, I have no idea what any of this means…

At the end of August, my girlfriend of three years broke up with me.  The next morning, I woke up to a brand new world. A world that frightened me, a world no longer conquerable. My skin, as it often does when depression sets in, felt of crawling and irritation.

The world had changed. And I hadn’t changed with it.

My entire life has always revolved around the idea of romanticism. And romanticism now seems dead. We now have text messaging. We have Facebook. We have dating sites pawning us off for stints until we can be returned for something more fitting. We are human goods. The world changed abruptly from the chivalrous, into one largely connected-updated-status profile, trafficking one another for short term use.

No longer are the days of just walking up to a girl on the street and completely and totally sweeping her off her feet. Dead are the times we could realize dreams of loving someone at absolute first sight. Love at first sight, these days, exist in Fletcher Jones Mercedes. We are an imprisoned, unambitious society swept away in a world of material goods and computer driven matches. We have the technology to completely alleviate our compassionate responsibilities for one another. In Gone With The Wind, Scarlett realizes that her love for Ashley was that of yearning for the opulent social standards that disease each and every society. When she returns to Rhett, he leaves, hopelessly abandoned by the worlds he once knew to be close to heart. Romanticism is art. And art is passion. We’re a society far to self-involved to realize the dangers posed. Romanticism is rotting away, its decaying, its futile.

And that’s created attrition. Attrition, you know, just walking steadfastly away from it all, without looking backwards, into forever’s fog. Walking away, away from the world you thought you knew and cared for with everything you had. That kind of attrition. Leaving behind only other people’s regrets. Attrition.

Two weeks later, I began searching for destinations world-wide that offered aseptic beaches. There are few left. I began looking into the idea of just building a hut and living remotely and off the land. Never shaving. No iPhone. No Facebook. Just something to write with, some bananas and a breaking surf. My only daily routines would consist of building a hut. Surfing. Eating fruit. And writing. Writing a love story. Maybe even a social manifesto. I dreamed of just waiting for that day when the farthest of all reefs began to break with furious energies, when people from the inner-communities would gather on the beach to watch the majestic surf; magnificent surf so raw and so pure, it can’t be contained or denied by any social infections. And then paddling out. I would have to imagine that in this one desolate, chosen corner of the world, the language spoken between the peoples would be irrelevant, as they would just understand that it was one more sign that an entire world was dying off. I have to also imagine that once my body finds the trapping crevices harnessed by that lowly, unsuspecting reef, I wouldn’t be alone. Never, ever again, would I be alone.

This is the tale of a Modern Day Love Story. I hope you enjoy.

Irvine 24 Hour Fitness Gym. A Friday. The temperature is 84 degrees outside.

“I really think this is a bad idea.”
I explain to Gabe. Gabe had decided to bring a date to Palm Springs.

“You just don’t like Karen.”
Gabe replies.

“I like her just fine. That’s not the point. I think Karl and these guys do some damage in terms of drinking and, well, its the Marriott pool in Palm Springs, which is known for being a singles party. Karl is divorced, probably more jaded than I am. And, you haven’t known her that long.”

“I think it will be fine. Her and I are going to have fun.”

“Can I work in on the bench with you guys?”
Random NeedleDick interrupts….

“No, you can’t.”
I reply sternly.

If there is one thing I can’t stand at the gym, its guys that stalk machines. I mean, come the fuck on, why don’t you just go find something else to do? Put down your silly workout sheet and pen and live a little. What if he was eating at Olive Garden, and I popped my head over the Italian-inspired-deco booth and said, “can I work in with those breadsticks?” But I wouldn’t do that. I would hit the lounge bar and try another culinary masterpiece starter and wait until the table was ready. Because I’m fucking polite.

I simply hate working in at the gym. Basically, I do 10 reps, then inevitably NeedleDick will do 12, which of course means I have to pull out 14, then he rolls 16 out, leaving me with the hat-trick of 20 big ones. Its just a bad situation to be in.

“Just remember, I warned you. I mean, can’t she bring any friends or anything?”
I say.

“Who? Cara? Lindsay?”
Gabe ask.

“I don’t know man, I read their guy-hater blog, do they really adhere to the romantic principles that I need for survival?”

“You mean anal sex?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Maybe I do. Lets just go.”
I say.

We walked out into the parking lot. It was 86 degrees. We got into Gabe’s truck and began driving back to the office.

“Megan Valley Satan said Karen complained that you text too much. And that you party too much. Apparently when Karen looks at your Facebook, you are always updating about what alcohol you are drinking, or what bar you are at.”
I tell Gabe, causing him to look curiously.

“This is crazy, she text me. And I do call her. Also, her Facebook is updated every day with what wine her and Lindsay are drinking.”

“Hypocrisy is the new black Gabe.”

“I guess.”

“Romance is dead Gabe. We live in a world where you are sold on a by-minute basis through profiles. Valley Satan says that’s what she used to think of me.”
I confirm with him.

“Now I’m stressed. I’m just stressed about the whole thing. Stressed that tomorrow I will not say or do the right things. Stress makes me want to drink.”

“Its the world we live in man. It started with Sex and The City, the ultimate romance killer. Guys are now expected to be complex, relationships are expected to be troubled. The female influence has changed.
I continue,
But, Gabe, we can’t drink tonight. We leave at 6am tomorrow morning. We simply can’t drink. That’d be our death. We must be strong. We must realize that we can’t change the world. Trust me, you’ll thank me for it.”

5 hours later. Huntington Beach. No Ka ‘Oi Hawaiian restaurant and bar. Its 76 degrees.

“I’m drunk.”
I tell Gabe, spinning the remainder of my glass of Chardonnay about, as if to say, ‘breath oh sweet Chardonnay grapes.’

“Me also. Its awesome.”

“I just got a text, apparently Valley Satan is coming also. She’s bringing her new boyfriend.”

I looked outside on the street. I saw an intoxicated night. Intoxicated nights hide the treasures of those couples just laying on some couch, in a small apartment, watching a movie and holding one another. That’s the purpose of intoxicated nights, they sweep under the rug those things we don’t want or need to suffer through in terms of realization. I knew tomorrow held with it the promise of new adventures.

6:30am the next day. Huntington Beach.
The Introduction of Jeff.

We began driving as the eastern horizon was aglow with a fresh new sun. We first stopped in Redlands California to pick up our friends Shirley and Alex.

“Are they coming down?”
Gabe asked.

“I guess. Alex is still showering.”

Ten minutes later, Shirley and Alex arrived at the truck. Alex smelled like Ivory soap. I decided to explain the Jeff factor.

“Ok, so this party is supposed to be really awesome. Like huge. Like Vegas style. We are meeting these guys Jeff and Karl. Karl text me this morning and said that his friend Jeff is a real festive individual. Apparently he has a lot of custom beer bongs at the hotel this morning.”

“Um, what does that mean? I’m not doing beer bongs.”
Gabe proclaimed.

“I know. Alex is. He’s the youngest of the group at 29 years young.”
I reply.

“Hey, wait a minute? Why am I doing beer bongs with this crazy guy? Gabe’s the biggest guy.”
Alex says, looking around the truck in a bedazzled fashion.

“Gabe has a date coming.”
I tell Alex.

“Gabe has a date coming? Isn’t that sand to the beach? What the hell?”
Alex says in the most logical of fashions. Alex is a Doctor, he’s super observational.

“I hope I’m not sand to the beach”
Shirley interjects.

“No one is sand at the beach! Look guys, these guys invited us out to show us a good time. I don’t know Jeff, I only know Karl and he seems nice enough. But the last thing I want to have happen is to walk into a situation and have our mancards revoked. That’d be a total disaster. Lets just drop it.”
I say to the group at large.

“Fine, I’ll do the beer bongs.”
Alex says.

I complain to Gabe that his iPod music is terrible and ruining the mood. I unplug his and replace with my iPhone. The music auto-starts, filling the cab of the truck with Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger almost immediately.

“Oh my God, what the fuck? Why were you listening to this?”
Gabe yells out, barely above the jarring anthem’s resonation.

I quickly scramble to change the song on the iPhone, which is locked. I nervously mess up the code a couple of times, finally enter the iPod function and change the song.

“Wow. That was sure weird.”
Alex says. He’s a Doctor, so he has uncanny ability in summing up a situation in only the most terse brevity.

“Ok, whatever. I always listen to certain songs before I leave my place. Today it was Eye of the Tiger. It gets me pumped.”
I explain.

The sun was rising and vegetation became limited. Exposed salt deposits fanned by the windows, the car sat silent, heads tilted out the windows as the desert continued to stretch further and further out on the horizons, as if it were swallowing us. I could see wind fans sprouting up with more and more consistency. Clean electric energy, the ambition of a more efficient planet at work. I couldn’t help but consider its absolute futility. The world is an energy colossus, beset on all sides with fields of lesser and lesser resources. Those wind fans stand painfully in the throws of frivolousness.

We passed a trucker on the road. I waved at him. He honked.

The JW Marriot Valet, Palm Desert, California. The temperature is 9032 degrees. Fahrenheit.

“Holy shit its hot.”
I say as the valet grabs my bag and places it on a cart.

“Yes Sir, it is.”
Valet says.

It was so hot that it felt as though human solar death rays were targeting us. The sun, in all its goodness, had turned into an evil klingon ship. We walk inside the hotel and check-in. Alex and I head to Karl’s room, with Gabe behind us roughly five minutes. When Alex and I enter the room, we are greated with bro hugs galore. Karl is smiling, he’s holding a bud light, he’s happy to start the day. Jeff comes out from the balcony, his glasses still on. He’s tall and somewhat imposing. He has a thick goatee.

“Lets go to the fun zone boys, I have two different hand made beer bongs. Come to the patio.”
Jeff says.

Alex and I exchange looks. The type of looks that two dudes would exchange if some bar chick were to say, ‘why don’t both of you just come up to my room instead of just you.’ Probably not the best way to explain it, but it was as close as I could come. When we got onto the patio, Jeff started unwinding a series of bongs. I saw a bird land on a tree, and then just fall over dead. I can only imagine that bird finally just said, ‘fuck it, its too goddamned hot.’ In other words, the fun zone was really fucking hot.

“Which one of ya’s first?”
Jeff said, holding two snakish hoses out in front of us.

“I will go.”
Alex said. He’s a Doctor and definitely not afraid to make decisions.

Jeff handed Alex the tube’s mouth end, he began filling it with a can of bud light. Alex twisted a nob on the side, the beer flowed down, sending a few sporadic bubbles back up the tube. It lasted like all of 4 seconds or something, then Alex lifted up, wiping foam from his mouth.

The realization now set in that I was going to have to ‘man up.’ While I in no way wanted to do a beer bong, I also wasn’t going to lose any alpha-male status to a new group of guys. Absofuckinglutely not. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was critical to do this. So when the tube was handed to me, I took it firmly, like the man that I am, and then I said, “whoa, actually, do you have a premium beer? Like say, a Heineken, or maybe a Blue Moon, those are yummy. Nothing against bud light, but I’m just allergic to the taste of it.”

The room fell silent. Then Jeff spoke.

“Or maybe a Chardonnay or something?”

I gave Alex the death look. It was critical that he didn’t expose me. Exposing me would be the same as being on a hijacked plane with a bunch of Muslims terrorist and having Alex say, “Hey Cory, you going to finish that bagel?” Nothing good would come out of it.

“You know what, I have a Heineken in here actually.”
Karl said, saving potential atrocities.

As I start to put the tube to mouth, I say, “so yeah, this awesome, Ill probably just do this all at once and not in two different sessions because that’s how you do them, I’m sure. The other way would be totally weak. Right?”

“Right.”
The group assured.

I put my mouth on the tube. I could see the Heineken making its way down the top portion of the tube like dutch death potion. I pulled the nob and I have to say, you’d be amazed at how much premium beer can fill your lungs before you are even aware its there. I began to swallow, which seemed to help the situation greatly.

“Is the beer going down or back up into the bottle, I can’t tell?”
Alex said. He’s a Doctor, they are super funny.

I finally just opened my lungs and prayed to whatever God you pray to when your locked into a bad premium beer bong situation. And before I knew it, the last drop made way down. I did some bro high-fives and reveled in my manhood. Soon after, Gabe entered the room and began doing beer bongs as well. The party at The Marriot was fully on. The pool below was filled to its brims. But there were still one unanswered question: Where was Karen and Valley Satan? I decided to call VS.

“Where are you?”

“Oh, Hi babe, I am going to pick my boyfriend up in Santa Monica. He just did a 10k bike ride for starving kids in Africa this morning, so I am running a little late.”

I vomited slightly in my mouth and blacked out. When I came to, she was somewhere new in the conversation.

“and then we all went to dinner. So it was awesome. You should have came. I bet Palm Springs is hot.”

“Megan, I really have to go. I need to locate a golf cart to take me 20 meters down the hotel parking lot to the pool. I will look for you in like 5 hours. We should be at the pool. Just call me when you arrive and I will get you guys in.”

“Ok babe.”

I turned to Gabe, he was yelling off the balcony that he just did a beer bong.

“Gabe, I just spoke with Megan, apparently her boyfriend was riding his bike in a 10k this morning and they are just now leaving.”

“Wow dude, you ever ride a bike that far?”

“You know Gabe, I probably have. I don’t know. Can you get it together for like two seconds? Karen is on her way. You have 4 hours to sober up or something. Its only 11am and you are a mess. Remember, you have a date today.”

“Wouldn’t you know if you have ever ridden a bicycle 10k? I bet he’s in killer shape.”

“I’m not sure if 10K Guy is in great shape or not Gabe. Maybe it was all downhill? I have no idea.”

Gabe goes back out on the patio. I join. I’m pretty sure another bird committed suicide, although I can’t confirm.

When we arrive at the pool, we begin walking towards where our lawn chairs are. As we are in route, I hear a girl call my name with curious inflection.

“Cory? Cory from Orange County? Well my God, is that you?”

I turned towards a posh little cabana setup. There were roughly 5 girls, and one coming towards me.

“Cory? Strange seeing you here.”

What she meant to say was that she didn’t think I would know about the big secret pool party.

“Hi Leslie, its great seeing you.”
I said, while hugging her.

“Maybe we can…I don’t know, hang out later?”
She ask. Meanwhile, all the guys are watching.

“Yeah, you know, maybe we can. Maybe dinner? Or pre-dinner? What is pre-dinner called?”

“I don’t think its called anything Cory. You have my number, text me later.”

As we walk away, Jeff and Karl stare at me with curious smiles.

“So you bang her or what?”
Jeff says.

“haha Come on Jeff, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Wow. Walk into the biggest party in SoCal and Cory is already knowing chicks.”
Jeff says.

At this point, my alpha-male status just completely ballooned. You see, you can do beer bongs all day, but as soon as you pass a random girl that you’ve had intercourse with and the male group sees, you go to an entirely new level. I began walking at the front of the group.

When we arrived at our reserved lawn chairs, Gabe immediately sits down and starts talking to this old woman. When I say ‘old,’ I mean like I’m pretty sure she had a Lifecall in her purse…you know…just in case….

Gabe then began pounding drinks. One drink, then another drink, then your drink. And as the hours to Karen’s arrival became less, the drinks in Gabe’s system became more.

“I’m not drunk!”
Gabe proclaimed to Alex and I. Whenever you tell people you aren’t drunk, you are then 10 times drunker than you already were. Its a rule.

“Gabe, I think you need to slow down. Your date is close to being here.”
I tell him.

“Do you think she likes me?”
Gabe says.

“Um, yes, I do, that’s why she’s driving for 4 hours here.”

“No, that other woman.”

“The senior citizen? Oh shit man, you need to get your head right bro.”

While Gabe floated back over to the Senior, I realized the situation was much worse than previously assessed. Maybe it was the sun. Or maybe it was the 400 drinks he had taken in. Not sure, but it was bad. Gabe then stood up, wobbling, on the pool’s edge.

“SHOTS FOR THE WHOLE POOL!”

“Alex, what the fuck is he doing? That’s my tab!”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, last time he did this he took all the shots himself. I guess some people didn’t think that was very cool, at least it seemed that way to me.”
Alex says.

“So he’s done this before? Good lord, we need to intervene. Jeff, hey man, can you take care of Gabe, this is out of hand.”
I ask Jeff.

“Hey Bro, I have been to this pool party like 13 years in a row. I have never seen anything like this. Its beyond my help. Do you think he’s going to pork the Senior?”

I look over at the edge of the pool, Gabe has Senior wrapped up like a Del Taco burrito trying to escape a drunk after 2am. Its then that I hear my iPhone ring. I jump out of the pool, quickly dry my hands and answer. Its Valley Satan.

“Hey Babe, its me. We are here. I am with Karen, Jean Marie 10k guy, and myself. We are at the gate. Its hot babe! Can you come and get us?”

“Um, yes, I am on my way. Hold tight.”

I look back at the pool. I tell Alex and Jeff to wrangle Gabe in.

“Um, no Cory. Everytime anyone gets near the old Senior, Gabe gets pissed.”
Alex says.

“Guys, fucking man up. She’s here. Go wrangle him in, I’m going to stall.”

When I arrive at the gate. Valley Satan has a big purse and some designer towell or something around her waste. Karen has a big purse, and some towels as well. 10K guy doesn’t have a bike, which kind of pisses me off. Why not man-up and just ride it here? That’d be tough.

“Hey guys, come on in.”
I say while opening the gate.

“Its great to see you Cory. Sorry we are sooo late, Jean Marie was riding his bike in a 10K at first light.”

Once again, I puke a little in my mouth and then black out. When I come to, we are near the pool bar and Karl walks over.

“So, its been a long drive for you all, lets have some drinks.”
I say.

“What about our stuff? Can’t we put it down at the lawn chairs or wherever you guys are sitting?”
Karen ask.

“Oh Karen, they are just ‘things.’ Lets have some drinks. Kark, lets get Mojitos. The good ones. And by good, I mean all alcohol.”

“Where’s Gabe?”
Karen ask.

“Gabe is holding down the fort. Probably just making sure everyone is ok.”
I respond.

We get our drinks. I try my best to act as a distraction, but no one is having it. So we walked over to the pool.

“Um, what the fuck is Gabe doing right now?”
Valley Satan ask.

I look over, and Gabe and the Senior seem to be trying to start a line dance in the pool.

“You know what Megan, um…not sure, let me go get him.”

“GABE, PLEASE COME HERE, KAREN IS HERE.”
I yell.

Gabe splashes some girls makeup off, she screams ‘fucking asshole,’ then he makes way over to the edge of the pool. And then he grabs Karen, and proceeds to throw her in the pool. After she escapes, she retreats slightly in and away from the water.

“Cory, can we please go have a smoke?”
Valley Satan ask.

“Sure.”

We walk back outside the gate. We both light our cigs. We stare at each other blankly momentarily, then Valley Satan spoke.

“Gabe fails.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Worst fail ever.”

“Yeah, I know.”

When we go back to the pool, I decide to get in the water. I see Gabe and the Senior talking. I see Karen mortified. I try to take a break from it all, and I swim over to a group of girls. I spot a brunette.

“You are gorgeous, like, incredible looking.”

The group freezes. As does she. I smile.

“What’s your name?”
I ask.

“Its Jen.”

“Hi Jen, I’m Cory.”

Over the course of the next hour, Jen and I hold on to one another in the pool. Her body is silk. Her eyes brown and glimmering. There was an energy. Lots of eye contact. It was as if the rest of the pool didn’t exist.

“So, what brings you to Palm Desert?”
She ask.

I take my finger and place a piece of hair, which is hanging in her eyes, behind her ear.

“I went through a bad breakup. So I wanted to get my mind off of it.”

“Why would any girl break up with you? You are so sweet. I like you. I like you a lot.”

We just stood there, in the midst of extravagance and mixed drinks and umbrellas, talking, caressing and smiling.

“Um, Cory, can I borrow you?”
Valley Satan ask.

We move aside.

“She’s married.”
Valley Satan says.

“Yeah, well, that’s how it goes.”

“I thought you told me you are looking for a relationship?”
Valley Satan says.

“Well, that’s what I found, just someone else’s I guess.”
I reply.

When I turn around, Gabe has the Senior bent over the pool’s edge. He is spanking her like a rap video. I hear a crowd cheering. Karen is still mortified.

“I think I am going to sneak Karen out of here. I will see you for dinner.”

I make way back to the pool’s edge. I grab my drink. Leslie comes over and sits on the lawn chair and looks down at me.

“Hi Leslie.”

“Hi Cory.”

I could feel the day winding down. The sun was softer. The pooler thinned of people. Jeff and Karl came back over and sat on some chairs next to Leslie. We discussed possibly all going to dinner.

“So Leslie, how do you know Cory?”
Jeff ask.

“Well, I met him like a 100 years ago or something. We met at a bar. I ended up going home with him. He kept trying to bang me, so I gave him a handjob so I could just go home and sleep in my own bed.”

And there you have it. The absolute worst possible response, a million-to-one response, and I draw the motherfucking lottery.

“What? What the fuck? So he didn’t bang you? hahaha”
Jeff says with enthusiam.

“What the fuck do you mean? No. Cory, why did you tell him you banged me? That’s fucked up.”

“Oh my God, will everyone just relax, I never said I banged anyone! I just said I knew you, I swear to God, Jeff’s drunk and doesn’t realize what he is saying!”
I reply.

“Oh come the fuck on. You gave the look!”
Jeff says.

“What look???”
I ask.

“You know exactly what I mean, the ‘I don’t kiss and tell’ look. Its bro-code, it means you banged her. That’s like one of the first bro-codes.”
Jeff says.

“Yeah.”
Karl throws in.

“You bro-coded that you banged me? I’m not going to dinner with you now. And to think, I actually considered fucking you tonight. Wow!”

And she stormed off, leaving pieces of ass-chewing shrapnel all over the place. My alpha-male status now Hiromshima’s worst hour.

“Hey, uh…Cory…there are people wondering why Gabe is ‘touching’ the Senior over there on the lawn chair. And by touching, I mean, like….well….I think there are some frightened families.”
Alex says.

“Alex, I don’t know. I don’t know why he’s doing it. You’re the fucking Doctor.”

“That I am Cory, but this Doctor hasn’t really ever seen anything like this.”

I closed out the $4000 pool tab.

When the sun began to set, I was on my hotel room’s patio. I thought about Jen. I thought about the fabric of my life having a huge tear in it. I thought about my life as a tortured writer. I thought of some of the worst places I have ever seen. I don’t know why, but I did.

Later that night, we all had dinner. 10K guy ordered Yogurt. Well, I never saw him do it, I’m just confident he did. As the night winded down, we hit a club. Upon trying to enter, the door guy gave us flack. He told me he might not let us in. Shirley and I weren’t having it, so we argued with the guy. I looked over at 10K guy to see if he was devising a plan to run the door guy over with his cycle thingy, but I couldn’t really tell what was going on. After a lot of arguing and bribes (mostly bribes), we got in. Gabe tried to make up with Karen, but she eventually left early.

“I just texted Karen, asked her why she left. She said ‘feeling done and I’m tired.’ I’m pretty sure that by ‘done,’ she means us and not today.”
Gabe told Alex and I.

“Yeah, I kind of agree.”
I reply.

“Actually, she just updated her Facebook Status to, ‘at Palm Springs casino for the win!!!!’”
Gabe says.

“Well, guess its time for you to update yours.”
I say.

“To what?”

“In Palm Springs Marriot Hotel bed for the fail.”

The next morning, as we drove home, the truck was silent. Everyone was tired. I saw those windmills again. I felt maybe I’d been a bit harsh on them the first time around. I mean, that’s someone dream for a better world. You know, one day, what if those people dreaming that turn their backs on the rest of society and just walk away, into the fog? What would we have then?

When I say fog, I mean like that far away reef breaking a 30 foot ocean swell. Like that.

I admit, I always cry at the end of Gone With The Wind. I just don’t always think its for the same reasons everyone else does.

Thanks for reading. I’m out.