Single Man at the Beach – An Illustrated Adventure

Two things about me.

If you’ve ever seen my picture, or indeed, read any of the stuff in this blog, it’s not a massive leap of logic to assume that I don’t have a girlfriend. Unsurprisingly, I’m your typical weirdo loner type who considers the “everyone on Earth is dead but you” plots of films such as I Am Legend to be the stuff that jizzy dreams are made of. Consequently, everything I do, and everywhere I go, I do it on my own.

Also, I live right on the South coast, and I like the beach – love the beach – and during the summer, at any available moment, that’s where I’ll be. But here’s where the problem comes in. One thing I’ve noticed at the beach, is that there really aren’t that many guys on their own. You’ll get couples, families, groups of friends, single women, but the single dude thing just isn’t happening so much.

In regular, non-beach life, I’m slightly paranoid that girls who find their way into my eyeline are going to think I’m checking them out, or whatever the youth vernacular is, (scoping out her leaky clout?) because there’s really no look in the entire raft of human expression worse than that disgusted sneer, that look that says “How fucking dare someone like you even look in my direction?!” This isn’t some self-pitying “Ooh, I wish I were all dreamy like Zach Morris,” it’s just the facts, Jack. There’s a very clear tipping point of attractiveness where an identical piece of social interaction veers from charming to creepy depending on the hotness of the aggressor. No matter the sense of style or level of confidence, an ugly bloke saying so much as a simple hello to a female stranger in the supermarket is a pervert, where a good looking chap is a confidence booster who’ll probably get a smile in return. Obviously it swings the same with both genders, but men are basically dogs who’d fuck some rolled up sandpaper if you glued a blond wig onto it.

So anyway, here’s me at the beach.

That’s me, there, and this is during the aforementioned Omega Man scenario. Everyone else in the entire world is dead, and I have the whole beach to myself. Look how happy I am.

But alas, that is just a dream. Regard, a representation of the types of beach-goers you actually find in a world that rudely contains other people.

Now it’s pretty crowded, and there’s not a whole lot of space, so where to sit? I just want to pitch up and listen to the waves, book in my hand, chilled Pepsi Max fizzing in my throat. I won’t even be taking my shirt off. Scenario One.

Scenario Two.

Scenario Three.

At this point, especially if the beach is really packed and I just want to get a spot, I find myself mentally measuring the perfect distance where I’m seen to be giving no unwanted favour to any particular party. Six inches in the wrong direction, and you’s a potential stalker, ugly.

But usually what happens is this.


~ by Stuart on June 17, 2010.

4 Responses to “Single Man at the Beach – An Illustrated Adventure”

  1. […] was heaving with both locals, and the many coachloads of London daytrippers. Looking for space, and so to avoid this dilemma, I walked down to the far end of the prom, and was drawn to the pretty cheery sound of a London […]

  2. […] in my Unattractive Single Beach Man nightmare, I somehow find a whole section of beach to myself. Glorious. A hugely fat couple waddle noisily […]

  3. These posts always leave me with such a confused feeling, I love them because I can completely relate to it. But I hate them because I can completely relate to it.

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