sun and surf and sand

journal entry 12.16.25

She told me I was funny, that I reminded her of her friend’s brother. Like I’d been a part of her life already. And that’s what she was looking for. Someone to be a part of her life. That’s not what I was looking for.

I wanted her on the sand, in the water. I wanted her for a day, for a week. I wanted bits of what she wanted - the sitting in the same room, studying separate things, her asking me about the DAT when she needed help. I’m really proud of my science knowledge. It’s one of my strongest achievements. I told her about the MCAT, but we barely scratched the surface. We didn’t get into the research.

I wanted her in the moment. I was horny, and she knew it. That’s the first thing she asked after I tried kissing her the first time. I gave a vague half answer, but I was and she knew it. I didn’t expect to be so attracted to her. She was hotter than her photos, she’d just taken a shower and smelled really fresh and soft, her skin was soft though her legs unshaven (she pointed out, I hadn’t noticed), and her voice her fucking Voice. Calm, musical, Viola register, smooth, horsetail across strings of golden bronze, resonant wood, harmonically built, and very Feminine in a subdued, low key manner. I thought her voice was so hot. I wanted her to keep talking.

So I kidnapped her. I took her to Taco Bell and the parking lot of the other place (like a Wawa but not), and I wanted to take her to the park but she was hungry so, the Taco Bell it was. And what really surprised me was that she didn’t want to make out. Even though she’d suggested hanging out in the car instead of at the bar, even though she told me I was funny and handsome and hot, she didn’t want to make out, and she turned her face when I tried to kiss her, but I tried again and again, and I only managed to catch the side of her mouth once.

I asked her why she thought I was funny. She said I was blunt, honest, I said things that people don’t usually say. I made connections people don’t usually make. She laughed at stuff I didn’t even think was funny. I wasn’t even trying. And then, when I did try, she didn’t laugh. I threatened to kidnap her again. I drove past her house. I think she got scared.

When I sent her home, Danny called her phone. Not me. Another Danny. She showed me the screen, laughing. You’re Other Danny, she said. That pissed me off. I’ve never been Other Danny.

But maybe that’s a taste of my own medicine. I can’t lie to girls, so when she asked if I hooked up often, I hesitated and she knew my answer. Guys more sociopathic than me would just say, no, I never do this, but I couldn’t. Weakness? Perhaps. Basic human morality? Perhaps that too.

All I’ve been doing lately is hooking up. Since I broke up with R—— back in August. It’s been hookup after hookup after hookup. Some of the girls become my friends. Exactly two of them, actually. Hooked up and got to know each other more and liked each other enough to keep talking despite knowing all of it.

But that’s not what she’s looking for. She’s looking for something long term, something real. She’s not looking for someone who’s leaving in January. She doesn’t want to share me with the other girls. She doesn’t want Other Danny. She wants love, love, love. She wants the slow decline then the sudden fall, arms and legs flailing, bodies tumbling over one another, knees and elbows digging into the grass as two spill down the hill, Jack and Jill, collapsing into one another, a heap at the bottom.

But all I want is the sun and the surf and the sand. All I want is the moment, the glances, the touches, the tight embrace. All I want is the now. The sun and the surf and the sand.

Monet, 1870