Today (On day I am writing this but will be posted several days later), the New Yorker and I went kayaking and I was so excited for it. The night before I had booked the rental reservations I was literally jumping down in my seat nor could I fall asleep that night till 2am. I might as well have been excited for Santa Claus coming the next morning.
I got the idea a week ago, when he and I went out to eat at Red’s Ice House. We saw dolphins jumping in Shem’s Creek playing with the kayaker’s who paddled on by and I was just like… I want to do that. It made me think of when I was fourteen and visiting my dad in Calgary for a couple weeks over the summer. There was this very suburban park and man made lake and one afternoon, my dad simply offered to go kayaking together. I could not say why or how this idea got started, only that it did. The next thing I knew I was paddling away in my own boat while he and my siblings were in another. I remember the sun shining down on us and how fun it was to paddle the oars back and forth. Afterwards, I remember being tired but I mostly remember, damn that was fun!
So as I looked at the dolphins, unbeknownst to The New Yorker, I began to think of going kayaking as something to some how set in motion for us to do together. Over the last month he has mentioned several times how he had wanted to go out on the water via a boat. He mostly meant he wanted to float on a big tube on the back of the boat but, I digress. I didn’t know how to rent a boat but then again I didn’t know how rent a kayak but I guess you could say for my own personal interests I was more motivated to look into kayak rentals than full on boats. The boat seemed like a lot more work to be perfectly honest and expensive. The New Yorker thought I had missed looking at the dolphins, or well most of them, but what he didn’t know was that I was capturing a dozen other moments in the process. I was enjoying the sensation of being near him, even as he scrolled through his phone. I can still close my eyes and remember all the sounds of people talking and seagulls squawking and the smell of salt in the air. I can see the waiter going from table to table, the dirty dishes at the bar from the couple who just left, and the guy at the last table furthest from me with the ridiculously tall blue drink I was curious about. I remember laughing at the several emotions that flashed across the New Yorker’s face as I took out my phone to take a candid photo of him. It happened so quickly but with my eyes closed I can slow down the process. The quizzical furrow of the brows as he is trying to figure out what I was doing. The sudden widening of the eyes of surprise followed by annoyance with a quick flick of a momentary eye roll and grimace of pursed lips of acceptance of what I had just done.
“Did you just take my picture?” He asked knowing the answer.
“Yup!” I said not even for the briefest of moments sorry. It was the second photo I had of him that wasn’t on his dating profile, the one before that was our first trip to Island of Palms at the end of July. I wanted more photos of him and for him to take photos of me, I just didn’t know how to ask for it.
“Dork,” he half muttered, shook his head and went back to looking at his phone. I smiled and ate another chip from our appetizer. But anyway, I digress. Let’s move on.Read more