Warning: If you are at all squeamish don’t proceed…some of the photos to follow are a little yucky. Just a little though.

When you mention surfers people for the most part envision them as being mellow, laid back and easy going. Surfing itself is also often associated with iconic movies such as The Endless Summer or that one from the 80’s North Shore. Gidget, Spicoli, Frankie and Annette are just a few of the names that first come to mind when the word surfer is mentioned and I will admit, some of the surfers out there could possibly fall into one or two of those categories. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I appreciate all surfers and how they choose to live their life but there is a whole other breed out there and they just do not fall into any of those stereotypical categories associated with surfing and surfers. My darlin’ surfer is a part of this other breed. I may have mentioned something to this affect before. Let me elaborate.

My darlin’ surfer is not cut from the Beach Boys cloth. You can ditch that image and throw it as far away as possible. He is cut from that new generation of surfers. The ones who walk on the wild side. Try to imagine more of, lets say…Evil Knievel. Yep, that’s who I fell in love with, Mr. X-treme himself.

Oh yeah, you’re not seeing things, that would be blood running down his adorable face. Spicoli, he is most definitely not. Look at that grin would you! He loves it! He is such a take charge, full throttle, all out type of man. Basically he is an adrenaline junkie. He does not mind a little dirt, sweat or obviously… blood. My man lives for action. He likes to conquer and dominate when it comes to life. Fortunately for me this x-treme gene has not kicked into high gear yet with our two monkeys. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I get lucky and it will skip a generation. Yeah right… I am never that lucky.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe which little monkey will always feel the need to go, Go, GO!?

The fabulous action photos on here were taken by Robbie Johnson with Surf Carolina Magazine on what should have been just a typical day of surfing. Typical is not a word in my darlin’ surfers vocabulary.

Evidently, from what I have been told, the blood running down his head looked much worse than what is shown in the photo up above. Thankfully, the memory card with the close up photos on it, decided not to cooperate for Robbie.

You would assume that my love came straight home, checked his wounds to see if there was a need for stitches, a butterfly bandage perhaps or even to clean himself up right? Wrong. No way Jose! Not my man. He paddled right back out and continued have a blast, as is evident from his big grin in that bloody photo. Robbie even told some of the other guys, “You don’t want to paddle out there with good ole’ Mr. Shark Bait, he’s enticing all the predators with his blood in the water.”

Good one Robbie. I actually got a big TICKLE out of that πŸ™‚

Here is what I discovered when I returned home with the monkeys. These are photos of my darlin’ with “road rash” from the very unusual, flying face plant that he took into the shore break. Hence all of the blood. No need for stitches thank goodness.

I don’t know which one TICKLES me in my funny bone more, his unbridled joy over an adrenaline filled day or my clips holding his hair back. Not the best photos of my cutie but they are priceless to me.

You might be thinking that I may have freaked out when I came home to this lovely sight. Nah, I am used to his shenanigans by now. I didn’t blink an eye.

This actually takes me back to when we first started dating. I remember being awakened from a lovely rare nap one afternoon with, Tap… tap…tap ” Look at this. Isn’t it cool !”.

There, not two inches from my nose, was a vision of red streaming blood! He had propped his leg up as close as possible so that I could see the gash and blood running down his shin from a surfing mishap only moments earlier. Not to mention he was grinning from ear to ear like a loon, or better yet an over joyed five year old who had found a hidden stash of candy somewhere.Β  I knew three things right then and there.

1.) Uh oh! This guy is an extremest and walks on the wild side. I am in deep trouble!

2.) This is a test. He is thinking to himself, “Is this chic going to flee screaming for the hills or stay, even at the sight of my blood and my overjoyed enthusiasm that I am bleeding all over the carpet?”

3.) It’s a good thing that blood usually doesn’t bother me because I have the Ga-Ga’s for this crazy man something bad, Lord help but I am not going anywhere. At least life will never be boring especially if he continues to wear nothing but board shorts and wetsuits.

How true that has been. Life with him has been anything but boring. I fell for an adrenaline junkie and he created a bona fide uncontrollable hedonist.

My darlin’ surfer. If he is not out trying to conquer the ocean, then he is on a mountain bike charging said mountain, or he is on a team of guys out maneuvering a platoon of 30 men while pelting them with neon colored balls of paint. He is my big kid. I can only hope that he will listen to my fervent pleas and save the base jumping for when the monkeys are in college.

Seriously, he really wants to do that! Say a silent prayer for me.

I love him to pieces. Sometimes literally…yeesh that man of mine.

I know that mine can’t be the only one out there full of shenanigans, what has yours been up to?

Tickled Red

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