I’m breaking up with this surfboard. This is what I told her.

Dear Joolie-Anne,

I wish I were writing to you for other reasons, but I just can’t continue our relationship. I’m writing this letter because I have much to tell you. Facing you would be too painful. I may leave parts out. You deserve the full truth?

I’ve loved our time together. The times we’ve played have been some of happiest in my life. You were made for me. I remember when you were a terrified young blank. Naked and alone, Keven stepped in. He shaped you. He found the beauty that was inside of you and pulled it out for the entire world to see.

When I first strapped you on top of my car, I was so proud that you were mine. Though I kept you hidden, I knew that up there, buried in the depths of that ten six Creatures of Leisure day use longboard bag, you were there - pristine and ready to get waxed up thrown in the ocean, paddled around thoroughly and perhaps even ridden.

Our first time together it was hectic. Do you remember? It was the left at the Moose. I fumbled around like a schoolboy and slid off you looking like a fool. It was crowded. There were people everywhere. It didn’t matter. I was so thrilled that you were mine. I was beyond stoked imagining what we might be able to do together.

People say that when you find the surfboard that you want to spend the rest of you life with… you will know it. I enjoyed the time we spent together but those times are over. You are one of a few surfboards on the earth which makes me feel confident and happy. You are thick, buoyant, beautifully shaped, fully watertight and a joy to ride. You have so many other wonderful qualities only the best surfboards have.

What happened - why I’m dumping you

I have to admit it. We had great times together. Whether we played in knee high runners at Martinique or shoulder high sets at the Reef, I could always count on you to get me into things early.

Others would barely contain their resentment and jealousy you caught waves so easily. All of this was a product of what a joy you were to paddle. One day, we even paddled from Oz to Backyards just because we could.

Then came that fateful day that we were betrayed. I was depending on the strap of that board bag. And you were perhap leaning a little too heavily on it as well. Either way, it failed. Either way, you paid the price.

Dropping you like that on your rail was unforgivable. I’m still haunted by the sound and the sight of you spit open like that. Despite my initial negligence, your foamy insides have seen no water. Your core remains pure. At first, I gave you the tuck tape treatment. But you deserved better. The best actually: Sanding, debris removal, microbubble filler and a layer of six ounce cloth with multiple hot coats and your injury is healed.

Though barely noticeable to most, when I look at you this insult to your integrity is all that I see. The shame I feel just being around you is almost unbearable.

If this was the only time I was hard on you, I perhaps could live with myself. You have all the regular deck side pressure dents from moderate use. And there are a couple, on your rocker that I feel most ashamed about. As I’ve attempted to explain, I did not mean to bring you in so close to those rocks. I thought that the seaweed and moss on them would have reduced their impact.

I can see that, though they don’t impact your ability to function in the world, you just won’t let the pain go. Because of that, I need to let you go.

You need to go to someone who will love you better than I ever could. Someone who knows how to handle ten feet and four inches of length with over three and a quarter inches of thickness on a board that’s just shy of two feet wide.

You’re not a surfboard. You’re a stage. I’ve moved on to other venues. You are rarely used and do not get the kind of love that you deserve.

You need better than me.

Fare thee well.

Glassy waist high sunset gliding sessions await.

She’s sad and in need of company. Not looking for anything too serious right now but open to hanging in and seeing how things go.

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