What Is The First Surf Curse?

That heart-sinking feeling. 

You’ve just bought a crisp new off-the-rack blade for an outlandish sum. Ran your hands over her hips, liked the feeling. Felt a spark. Tried to squash the bad images flashing in your mind. You couldn’t. 

You’re under the spell.

You pull out card. Pay the fine. Avoid eye contact with shop grom processing payment. Witness. An expense hard to justify to anyone, yet alone your wife, in need of a new kitchen set. ‘I’m sorry’ you utter, delicately positioning her naked body in boot of car. 

You rush to the beach. Rub base coat. Coconut. Intersecting zig zags first. Coat with orange mid-cool top coat, circular motion. She’s ready. In the lineup, she allures. The unmistakable paper-white hue of a ‘freshie’ fruits conversation, albeit from speakers with an undertone of envy. You king. 

You spin around. A two-foot A frame, the perfect site to consecrate the unholy affair. It’s time.

You push, board responds seconds later. Bog. Bog. Shithouse. She stares at you, blankly, like a fool. Pictures of wife wielding spatula burn in mind. Color, red. Cursed totem. Your head bows sheepishly. Sucker. Was a test of your loyalty. 

In subsequent surfs, the board comes around, eventually. But the esteem is diminished, the mojo robbed. You’re in the doghouse too. 

You have experienced the first surf curse.