But it’s not EXACTLY what you think.
It’s not THAT kind of performance anxiety.
I tricked you and I know it’s not nice to do, but, well, I have no excuse.
I felt like it.
He’s always in a great mood when he can surf or ride his stand-up paddle boards.
When he was around eight years old, he lived in Kauai and was friendly with Elizabeth Taylor‘s nephew — always disappointed that he never caught of glimpse of her. He also went to elementary school with Laird Hamilton — that very famous surfer.
My tugboat man has saltwater in his blood.
On Saturday, he told me to get ready to go to the beach and bring my camera so I could shoot vid of him shredding and getting barreled and tubed and mastering the wild surf.
Even a few seashells, but nothing like Florida. Cute shorebirds.
A a proud and loyal wife, I planted myself on the sand with my Canon Rebel T3i zooming in on my tugboat man.
I didn’t want to miss a single wave.
Off he goes!
Nice boat – there’s my tugboat man, ready to shred!
I don’t have a tripod (note to self to get one) and my arms were soo tired.
I gave up, sat down, and read a book.
When my tugboat man finally came out of the water, he just couldn’t understand what happened.
He’s a really good surfer and had been catching TONS of waves — UNTIL I got there.
Not a single wave. Not ONE.
See, performance anxiety, right?
Just not the kind you were thinking of.
Update: To prove he wasn’t suffering from any long term surfing decline, he went back out without me for an “evening glass off session” (surfing terminology) and returned having caught at least a dozen waves.
I think I jinxed him. Oops.
P.S. In case you were wondering, I got hub’s permission before writing a post about this delicate subject matter. I would never want to embarrass him in a public forum. Privately? Well, that’s a different matter entirely! LOL