When you really think about it, there are a lot of similarities between sex and surfing, at least from a man’s perspective. I’ve written this from a man’s perspective, because I am one, and to write something like this from a girl’s perspective would be strange, not only for me, but for you.
But think about it: many men watch hours and hours of both porn and surf movies. Immediately after both surfing and sex, food and sleep are all men want. Men get grumpy if we go too long without either. Men lie about wave size, boob size, and dick size. Men are stupid around great waves and great women. I’m going to pass on the obvious backdoor joke, because this is lowbrow enough already. But chasing great waves might actually help with pleasing great women. Here’s how:
Nothing says sexy like contorting yourself into strange positions for the sake of night of passion. Missionary is for suckers and missionaries. You don’t want that shit. You want filthy, disgusting, shame-filled raunch. And to do it properly, you’re going to need to stretch it out. All of it.
You know what’s a turn off? Throwing your back out mid-hump, sweat pouring down your face while you scream in agony in the ear of some poor girl’s ear. But surfing keeps you limber, like a sexy little sex panther. Lithe and agile, you’ll bend all over the place like a horny Gumbi, sticking weird things in weird places and flexing in the mirror like Patrick Bateman minus the psychotic tendencies. Hopefully.
Remember back in high school when you’d see Phoebe Cates walking down the hall, her hair flowing over her shoulders smelling of sweet something, heels clicking, hips swaying? Yeah, you do. It was in slow motion. You’d have died for her, right then and there. And if you had the chance to do what you wanted right then and there, you can bet it would’ve been nothing more than a frenzied, frantic, lusty affair that was over far too soon for her to even know it happened.
Stamina! You need stamina. And not just the kind that comes with age and practice and calloused hands, but the kind that comes with good, hard exercise. Slogging through massive beach break, duck diving for what seems like hours, shoulders burning like fiery iron rods, chest heaving coppery spit into your mouth… it’s all good practice for doing the important work: procreation of the species!
No one wants to have sex with a weak, wet sack of shit that can’t hold him/herself up. If you’re a cramping, shaking, whimpering lump between the sheets, chances aren’t great that you’re going to be a repeat offender. Strong is sexy, after all.
Hours and hours of paddling around in circles and battling for waves will give you muscles. There’s no way around it–you’ll get stronger, whether you want to or not. The more you surf, the stronger you get, and the stronger you get, the more you can throw someone around in the bedroom, sans cramping, shaking, or whimpering. Don’t be a sobbing little boy. Be a man. A man with hair and muscles and grunts! Surf more, if only to please your woman more.