J
What do two pasty kids do to offend thousands of sun worshippers on a blistering hot day? Why go to the beach of course! This week Zane and I dragged our heat stroked selves to the sands of Jones Beach, a nearby oasis on Long Island to soak up some sun.
Z
Nothing says 100-degree heat wave like sitting half-naked on a plot of sand. Like many other activities mentioned in these date reviews, I am not much of a beach person. I don't mean to sound so "glass half empty" but after many evenings creeping myself out with pictures of deep sea monsters, the thought of the ocean (and subsequently "beaches") spurs imagines of murky deeps, hiding such nightmarish creatures such as the Siphonophores and the Angler Fish.
J
Slathered in sunscreen and armed with a picnic basket of treats, we were ready to go. Being city dwellers, we of course did not have true beach going gear. Bathing suits yes, but beach towels? Nah. We used an old tablecloth. Flip-flops for Zane? Nah. Nothing's cooler that brushing sand out of your tube socks. Boogie board? Nah, we're more game board people.
Z
Aside from standing at the water's edge and letting the breaking waves try their best to knock me over, beach visits for me often amount to timing my next snack and keeping the blanket as sand free as possible. As OCD as it may sound it has always been a great way to keep busy while my fellow beach goers lay still, offering up their bare bronzed bodies to Ra, the sun god.
J
We amused ourselves with endless games of Monopoly Deal, and watched as the surrounding sun worshippers baked to a crisp even George Hamilton would envy. Of course there were your typical beach bums, clad in Speedos and natural fur coats Darwin spoke of us shedding. I found it hard to compete with some of the women shipped in from what could only be Brazil - teeny bodies, teenier suits. But more on them later.
Z
Unlike beach visits in the past, this time I was fortunate to have a fine bikini-clad lady by my side. Long gone are my days as an awkward teen, nervously scanning for any brawny Steve McGarretts looking to steal my girl. Now I sit back and relish in Julie's head-turning abilities. Envy aside, Julie was the perfect distraction for my boney, Casper-hued complexion.
J
This being our first beach trip ever, we felt like giving ourselves a leg up against the sun by not arriving until 4pm. Some may scoff but I thought it was the best! People cleared out a bit and sunscreen need only be applied once, if not being optional altogether. For a person who turns into a lobster from just thinking about the outdoors, I appreciated this.
While the weather was steamy, the water stayed frigid as often happens in the Northeast. I remember vacations to the Carolinas with water as welcoming as a bath drawn by your cabana boy. But this day the ocean more likened the icy drink the cabana boy’s jealous ex would throw at him for drawing you that bath. "How dare you!" the water spat at my relief-seeking toes.
Not wanting to step on a jellyfish and refusing to remove my eyeglasses, I was more than happy to lounge in the sand and soak up the view. The water was so filled with people it reminded me of that scene in Titanic, but with more whistle blowing. The lifeguards tried to contain the countless bodies but really seemed more interested in their bronzed muscles. (Which I don't blame them for.)
Z
It was tough holding back urges to steal some child's tools to build my own sand castle, or to surprise Julie by burying her up for her neck in sand. Fortunately there were plenty of good sights to take in to keep the afternoon entertaining, among them the slew of people who should never be shirtless and those who should always be.
At the beach, there are fashion choices you would never see anywhere else. One in particular was a buxom woman clad in a white fishnet dress, over a thong bikini. As she and her meathead boyfriend were likely thinking "this outfit is hot!" but as a casual onlooker I could only think of the unsightly sunburn it would leave. Cross-checkered and beet red like a Christmas Ham she would attempt, in vain, to lather the sore diamonds with lotion as her man freaks out that she might get aloe on the interior of his Dodge Charger.
J
Ladies, if you go to the beach with your man, why do you always look like you're there to pick up someone else? Answer: 'Cuz it works. I sat amazed, feigning interest in some story Zane was telling as I watched mesh dress/thong lady somehow get another guy to come over to her and her boyfriend to "personally train" "them." In my mind they had never met before and this ballsy trainer guy swooped in and third-wheel-style stole that guy's girl. Either that or I was watching the appetizer portion of a three-way.
Julie's Review:
Hot weather aside, Zane and I had a great time ogling each other and those around us. We walked hand in hand into the sunset on our way back to the car. All in all it was a sweet date (minus all the boob shots he "accidentally" took with the camera) and I would love to do it again! 8.5 out of 10
Zane's Review:
As a noted opponent to beach bumming I had a very nice time with Julie sitting on the beach for a few hours. Whether swimming, or just simmering, an afternoon at the beach can be a great prelude to a romantic evening. Whether it's the salty sea air, seeing your honey wearing the equivalent of underwear in public, or the sea monsters plotting your imminent demise, hanging out at the beach gives an atmosphere that is second to none and offers up a nearly limitless array of activities that could feasibly all cause some accidental nudity. For new and old daters alike I give this 9 1/2 "Great reasons to spend time in your underwear in public" out of 10.
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