I used to go to Prince Edward Island every summer when I was a kid. For a few years there was a kid there named Josh who was approximately the same age as me—about 13 or 14—and who stayed in the cabin beside the one my family stayed in. Josh and I were best friends during those summers. We liked the same things (cheeseburgers and candy) and both loved hanging out at the beach where we could stomp on dead jellyfish and kill crabs. Ah, youth!
One summer, there was a new family on the other side of our cabin who had two kids about my little sister’s age as well as a daughter who was a year or two older than I was. My sister had become fast friends with the two younger kids, and spent most of her day playing with them while I hung around with Josh.
Now, it just so happened that one afternoon Josh and I were lounging on the deck of the cabin when the eldest daughter of the family next door happened to come outside to sunbathe. The girl looked like an angel. She was like D.J. Tanner from Full House. She was goddamn perfect.
Being 13 year old boys, we nonchalantly (actually, it was probably very fucking chalant) moved our lawn chairs to a position where we could stare at this poor girl all afternoon. Whereas before we had been talking about movies we liked, now we said nothing, we just sat silently in our chairs behind our mirrored sunglasses. Not creepy at all. When she went back inside—after about 10 minutes—Josh and I immediately started in with the locker room talk. Never mind the fact that this girl’s cabin was only 10 feet away and she was only behind a screen door, we were all about this girl, we didn’t care if she heard us. She was a “total babe”. Our conversation was full of all those testosterone-fueled comments that teenage boys like to think sound manly but really only prove how little they know about anything.
“I’d put my hand in her back pocket”
“I’d French with her”
“She could sleep over at my house, ANY time”
We were pathetic.
Later that evening, Josh and I were inside the cabin eating our way through an oversized bag of cheap-ass no-name wannabe-Doritos with a picture of Garfield wearing a Sombrero on the front when my Dad came in and said that there was going to be a big campfire in the backyard that night with my sister’s friends and their family. Josh was welcome to come as well.
Josh and I thought the same thing, That babe is gonna be here!
Then we both thought the same thing again, But which of us is going to be her boyfriend?
And then again, one more time, we both thought, I am!
We decided to be gentlemen. We’d each take our shot, and to the victor would go the spoils. We agreed to take some time to get cleaned up for the evening, then meet back at my cabin in about an hour. I showered, put on my newest-looking swimming trunks and my best Batman t-shirt. I kicked on my least-stinkiest flip-flops and took a look in the mirror to see what my hair was doing these days. Roguishly windblown. That was perfect. Mix the unruly hair with my tanned skin and freckled face and I looked like the very spirit of youth. I looked like Tom Sawyer. Who could resist that? [Sadly, it would turn out that most women could resist that, and for years to come.]
I went outside onto the deck and sat down in the chair. The air was rich with the smell of the salt water, and a warm breeze carried the scent of smoke from the various campfires. It was going to be a magical night. Josh was taking a while so, while I waited, I fantasized about showing this girl off to all my friends back home.
Then she comes over and I totally put my hand in her back pocket like it’s not even a big deal either, and I am immediately crowned King Shit. There might actually be a crown, I’d just have to wait and see about that part.“Hey Dudes, what’s up? Oh, her? Pfft, that’s just my girlfriend. Yeah, she’s from the island. Yeah I guess she does sort of look like D.J. Tanner, no big deal or anything. I’m actually getting kind of bored with her”.
Yeah, that’s how this shit was going to go. After tonight, a lot of things were going to change. Tonight would mark the beginning of my rise to power.
Eventually I heard the screen door on Josh’s cabin screech open and bang shut. He walked towards me in the twilight. At first my heart sank, and then it began to fill with rage. This piece of shit coming towards me was wearing dress shoes, new blue jeans, a maroon windbreaker (with no t-shirt on underneath), and a gold chain necklace. He was dressed to kill.
“Hey”, he said, “I’m ready”.
As he stood next to me, the smell of the campfires surrendered to the overpowering scent of his Old Spice. His hair had been over-gelled and combed straight back like a cool 80’s movie villain.
Dammit, I thought, Ladies love the badboys. This guy’s done his homework.
He looked like a young Val Kilmer and I looked like one of the Little Rascals. I had lost this shit already. I felt sick. With disappointment in my heart, I walked behind Josh to the fire. That was my place, after all, behind him. Second-place. Always last. Sigh We got to the fire and stood there for a bit. Everyone was there except for the babe. After about 15 minutes, we managed to snag her little brother for a second.
“Where's your older sister” I asked.
"She went to a campfire down the beach with some guys...your Dad bought us SPARKLERS for tonight!"
Josh jumped in, "What did he say?"
The little boy repeated, "We got SPARKLERS!"
"No, not that" Josh spat at him, "where is your sister?"
"I dunno, some campfire on the beach somewhere"
Josh sounded desperate, he clearly had a lot riding on this.
"Where on the beach?" he demanded.
But the kid had already lost interest and was running away with his arms out, pretending to be an airplane, a very unhelpful airplane.
We stood there for a bit longer, and I could see Josh was trying to think of a plan.
“Wanna go for a walk?” he asked
“Where?” I replied, just to piss him off.
“I dunno, down the beach or something”
“Sure, I guess so” I said, not really wanting to go.
We trudged up the beach one way about a mile. There were only a few fires on the beach because the tide had just gone out and everything was still pretty wet. When we did come across a fire, Josh would veer towards it enough to get a look at who was there. Mostly it was older teenagers who said things like, “Don’t you guys look romantic?”, and “Nice fucking windbreaker!” Once we had gone the mile, Josh insisted we turn around and check about the same distance the other way. We spent most of the night walking on the beach being harassed by guys with backwards baseball hats who made it clear how ridiculous they thought we were and, in one case, threw handfuls of wet sand at us.
The walking wasn’t bothering me; I was wearing shorts and flip-flops, but Josh’s dress shoes were soaked from walking through the wet sand, and his pantlegs had taken on water and become so heavy that he had to hold his pants up by the pockets as he walked. The effort had caused him to break out in a sweat and his windbreaker stuck to his clammy skin. Eventually he gave up his search, and we trudged back to the fire at the cabin, Josh grumbling the whole way.
He plopped himself down in a lawn chair in front of the fire and let the heat dry his shoes and pantlegs. The heat of the fire also loosened the product in his hair. It mixed with his sweat and dripped down onto his forehead and shoulders in globs, drying to leave disgusting white spots.
The night wasn’t a total loss. The campfire at the cabin was nice, and I did get the consolation prize of listening to the little kids tell Josh all the gross things they thought his too-much-cologne smelled like until he got so mad he had to go inside to wash some off and towel some of the sweat-gel out of his hair. I also watched in quiet satisfaction as the sparks from the campfire and the sparklers my Dad had bought melted little holes in his fancy-ass maroon windbreaker while he sat unaware, pounding marshmallows into his face.
Now, here’s the best part. Before the night ended, the Total Babe came back from her fire (wherever the hell it had been) and checked in with her parents at the one we were all at. She was only quickly introduced to everyone before she went into the cabin to watch television, but when Josh got his turn to say “Hello”, he tried to do it all smokey-voiced and didn’t even look at her. He just thrusted his marshmallow roasting stick in the fire a few times, like “Yeah, pffft, whatever”. Everyone noticed, and the parents kind of smirked at how silly he looked.
I just stared at him and smiled.
Yeah, that's it. Enjoy those tasty marshmallows, cool guy. Your shoes are wrecked, your cologne made people sick to their stomachs, your hair looks fucked, and that sweat-bag you call a coat is ready for the garbage. You’re gonna sit there looking like a homeless person and play hard to get when you’re clearly hard to want? Nice strategy, Ladies Man!
So, neither of us got the girl. It was actually the first in what would become a long run of romantic failures for me. I’m not sure how Josh made out with his love life, but I like to think he failed a lot too, and that he probably got beat up at least twice a summer for most of his life.
That was actually the last summer Josh and I hung out. The next year my family went to Old Orchard Beach instead of Prince Edward Island, and I made friends with two Dutch boys . They couldn’t speak English worth a damn, but they had a smoking-hot mom who traipsed around in a bikini all day and called me “Zveetheart”.
Top that, Josh.
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