Byron Bay Beauties
Byron Bay Main Beach
Here they come the beautiful ones …
I have been avoiding the subject; it feels a little exposing (and that’s the subject). I feel I might be misunderstood when I speak of what I cannot speak about. When I even hint at what I want to say I blush in beautiful Byron Bay. I guess I just have to say it …
Lately every time I go into Byron Bay, or especially to Wategos or Main Beach, I am afraid for my life. My heart speeds up and my eyes pop out and other things want to pop up and out and I need to move away from the beach … I need to put my hands in the air, I repeat, put your hands in the air and move away from the beach. I take myself into one of the local Cafés and sit bemused and that little voice inside my head laments over my misspent youth and the regret that I can never misspend it again and I stir deep into my chai late.
I know I’m not being very clear here … Byron Bay can have that effect. The total holiday relaxation haze. So I do need to come clean. Here goes.
I feel like a dirty old man. Now I’m not old. I’m 42. I’m young at heart and consider myself kind of with it. (Maybe that’s a symptom of dirty old man syndrome). I’m fit and healthy and my body still looks reasonably held together in tight jeans, thongs and a rip curl T-shirt (maybe that’s another sign - dressing like a teenager). But some things have changed and some things have not changed. I can see that clearly. But what has changed is either my appreciation for fashion (or the lack of) or my lament for my youth.
Here goes … the fashion. It’s about exposing as much of yourself, on and off the beach, day and night, every hour that God sends it’s driving me crazy. I want what I cannot have and I want what does not want me. I could never have imagined that showing the top of your pubic hair (the boys) and your ass crack would be fashionable on the streets. Who would have thought that showing your ass crack, and the peep of your Brazilian and the barely covering of your nipples (the girls) would be every day street-wear? Byron Bay has to have the most beautiful looking men and women on the planet. They are sent in droves to torture me.
Happily my moral conduct and boundary intelligence is wholesome and pure. The most I do is ogle discretely behind my Oakleys (are they still in fashion - more things to think about?). I am self-aware and self-respecting enough to never put my own ludicrous fantasies on to the pert nubiles. More for absolute selfish reasons. I could say unrequited love is too painful. But the truth is I hate rejection and that is of course what would happen. I am not going to set myself up now am I? But oh no, here they come the beautiful ones …
“Oh hi - Love your sunnies - Are they DKNY ? They’re great. Hi - I’m a local. Lived here for years. You on holiday? Yeah … Great - Enjoy ! Maybe I could, er, you know, show you around, all the hidden places that only few get to see (Then God forbid and shame upon shame I actually wink). There’s some beautiful, crazy beautiful spots, (I know I need to shut up but I can’t). You’d love it !! ”
“Sorry mate … but we’re chockers all week - but thanks anyway.”
And there it is … in one fell swoop I am devastated, alone, rejected, blubbering, humiliated and my nose pressed up hard against the locked candy store window. So this is how it is from now on ….
And ah, there they go, the beautiful ones.
