Sri Lanka 5 Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In The Water
19th July, Early, Arugam Bay
In the early evening Llyw and Laurence decided to go for a surf down at the point and I decided to wander down with them and have a swim.
The girls were already swimming just a little way, but I decided to go with the guys, because I figured it’d be awkward with the girls. Awkward because I’d be self conscious and also awkward because I’d worry that I was making them self conscious, and fearing I’d look like a perv or something. If they were to discover my pervyness let it be a slow revealation, we had 3 weeks for them to discover my depravity, best not to rush it all out in one go. I’d drip feed it out.
The trek up the beach was tough going because the sand was constantly shifting. It wasn’t long before the guys built up quite a lead and I dawdled behind.
I didn’t really mind, the beach was gorgeous and I strolled along people watching and exchanging “Hellos” with the local fishermen.
The point was buzzing with surfers and bathers. I walked past some locals who were drumming in a circle, who knows why, but a lifetime of old movies made me wary. Can you remember the last time good things came after tribal drumming in a film?
I ditched my flip flops, glasses and, after a quick glance around, shed my shirt and hurried into the water.
Too rocky to swim I hurried out, quickly tugged on my shirt, now filled with sand (lovely!) and moved along the beach, looking for a quiet spot where there weren’t too many people around.
I knew I was going to make a fool of myself but I prefer to do it in front of small, intimate audiences, not vast hordes. I’m more like the Richard Herring of making a fool of myself as opposed to the Michael McIntyre.
I swam for a bit, but felt uncomfortable and so redressed and wandered back to the cabin.
Its weird how this holiday has bought my self-consciousness to the fore!
Usually it doesn’t bother me that much but I realise how much it sucks. I mean, on a logical level I know that nobody on the beach was going to be looking at me, and if they did, so what? It wasn’t as if everyone on the beach was an Adonis/Venus.
Also, I remember a time before I got bashful. I remember getting a laugh doing a Whigfield impression when I was around 9 years old, naked except for a towel on my head. Its a world away from who I am now.
I like making people laugh but I’m not that willing to push myself into the spotlight now. And while getting my cock out would guarantee a laugh, its a line I won’t cross. Unless the money was right.
I suppose I could overcome my self-consciousness.
Or eliminate what I’m self-conscious about? My slow, lazy attempts to lose weight are bearing some small fruit, like grapes, I’ve dropped two belt notches since Amsterdam, and I hope to intensify my attempts in the coming months.
As for my other insecurity? Well, maybe I’ll answer one of the thousands of e-mails in my junk folder.