Phil and Claire at the beach
My ex and I used to take a lot of walks at the beach after work.
We lived right by the beach, and on days we weren’t riding around mulling over where next to go for dinner, or discovering new routes till it was time to turn towards home, we went to the beach.
Sometimes we’d just walk around or we would just sit side by side and just…be.
Smiling, sighing, laughing, occasionally fighting…but mostly happy.
Nobody knew we were together, we had our reasons for keeping it quiet.
But whenever we were at the beach, even if we’d just pulled up some sand to look out into the velvety black skies spotted with the frothy white of the waves…a stranger could have spotted our love from a blurry distance.
They would have looked over at our silent frames and declared, “There’s two people hopelessly in love with each other, right there!!”
The beach…it leaves an impression. It’s almost a rite of passage in the journey towards falling in love, if you grew up in a city with a beach.
*****
16 was about uniforms with fluttering dupatta tail-ends, pigtails, mounting nerves, and cheeks that were fuller and brighter than the sky against the setting sun.
A knotty stomach (see what I did there) as the cute guy you had a crush on sat next to you, his uniform casually crumpled, front of his shirt tucked lazily out, and his hair ruffled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.
But even better was when he softened, because this was his first time too.
When he was nervous and silly, cheesy lines falling clumsily from his inexperienced lips. Your grin widening as you experience the explosion of chemicals for the first time, not knowing the kind of illogical trouble they would keep getting you into.
You pool in your change together and buy sundal.
He springs for an extra cotton candy just for you, as a surprise.
You are giddy from his impishly proud swagger of buying something for his girl for the first time.
You were his girl.
At 20, the stage is already set.
You know a little more about what you want. You think you know what you don’t want.
You’ll realize later how naive you were.
You hold hands without hesitation.
You talk freely, both trying to impress the other with wordplay, teasing, bravado, and plenty of “well what I think is…”
You can each afford your own sundal but you take turns shouldering the expense for two servings.
You’re adults, now.
You look around once it’s twilight…can you sneak in a kiss?
You are in movie-love. You will always be the girl that loved too much, the girl who did not know when to stop giving, and this boy might be your undoing.
Or the next one would be, or the one after that, but that didn’t matter.
You were going to have the happiest of romantic endings.
*****
Time flies by and you’re a little less of a romantic but the beach is the same.
Holding hands can happen if we’re in love. Walks too.
No, I don’t want you to buy me anything, thanks.
And I don’t have time for this, so unless either of us is in it for the long haul, your place or mine?
At 27, love has been elusive for a nearly year and that’s the longest it has ever stayed away.
Sure, you are better convinced of your independence. But the yearning for romance and the utter ridiculousness of being in love, the allure of being that 16-year-old again — it stays.
Stays longer than broken hearts and overconfident promises.
Stays longer than needing sexual satisfaction.
Stays longer than mistakes and shame.
Stays longer than secrets.
Just, stays.
*****
I haven’t been to a beach with a boy I love in over a year.
I haven’t sat behind a boy I love, him riding his bike endlessly through the streets of Chennai just for us to talk, or find the next best place that serves good fish.
I haven’t walked into a grocery store with a boy I love, asking him to check household items off the list as I filled the cart.
I haven’t said “let’s eat out tonight no?” and had a date with the boy who was coming back home with me for our usual night of routine and “goodnight baby” before we turned out the lights.
I haven’t cried over a fight that made my chest hurt, but it didn’t matter because the boy I loved was on the other end and we would…fight it out.
Figure it out.
We would always, always, figure it out.
I haven’t been to a beach with a boy I love in over a year, and it’s not the boy I miss anymore — it’s the being in love with a boy.
I wrote this after watching S3 E21 of Modern Family- ‘Planes, Trains, and Cars’
Phil and Claire at the beach sparked off a whole ramble of memories and epiphanies.
I love that this show covers so many different kinds of relationships so wholesomely. Under all the humor and comedy, there is really so much to learn from.
