Ask a male author about your male character traits or thoughts.

Amazon links to my stories: Autumn Breeze, A More Perfect Union, Double Happiness, The Wolves of Sherwood Forest, Neanderthals and the Garden of Eden can be found down the right side of the blog.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

The male POV over time

Does the male POV change over time? (or for that matter, the female POV)? September 1, 2013

When I was a boy my family vacationed in Wildwood by the Sea (Wildwood Crest), New Jersey. I played in the surf. A girl hopped over tiny waves in front of me like she was doing a hula hoop.

“I’m jumping on crabs, before they can bite me,” she said.

“Me too.” We jumped together laughing and holding hands. We ran to shore to build sand castles because we both knew the crabs would only take so much pounding before they’d get mad and bite.

When I was a young teen in the same surf, a girl in a two piece, mostly straight up and down stood near me. She was shy, so I said, “Watch out for the crabs.”

“How do you keep from getting bitten?”

“You have to float on your back and never touch the sand.” I taught her how to float. After a while we slid onto the shoreline by making little paddling motions with our hands. We were safe, we figured. So we built a sand castle at water’s edge. No crabs were allowed.

When I was an older teenager, worrying about crab bites was beneath me. A young lady in a bikini swam past, stopped, and pirouetted while jumping over each small wave.

“The water keeps pulling me away from my family,” She said offering her hand.

“Don’t worry,” I pulled her gently, “I’m a life guard. You are safe with me.” I don’t know about her heart, but mine was pounding. Instead of sand castles we forgot about her parents and mine and took a walk.

When I was a young man, I ventured out to catch the first breaks and body surf for long rides. I surfed upside down and performed all sorts of tricks just to see who was boss, me or the Atlantic Ocean. But a far more dangerous entity approached. She jumped in and out of the water like a dolphin. Her sleek body and bold nature caught my eye. She had the fast stroke of someone who was on a swim team. But I had the eye of a lifeguard and worried for her safety.

“You’re good.”

“I was hoping you could teach me how to body surf.” That was all I needed to know. I bragged about being a lifeguard and assistant swim team coach, but mostly I helped guide her body into the waves. The touch of her was magic to me. There in the water, she kissed me saying thanks. We body surfed every day and walked the boardwalk at night, ending each night in sweet embrace.

When I was an old man, well I am one. I strode out with wild abandon to body surf the biggest of waves in Carlsbad. Sometimes I shy away from the cruel crushers that just rise up ten feet and flop. Sometimes I take the ride anyway, still tossing in some upside down moves. A woman approached me, jumping and pirouetting in the surf. I was amazed. Her figure was perfect. Her face showed the lines of a long and happy life.

“Those waves are too scary.”

“I vaguely remember being a lifeguard, not to worry. You have to dive under the white right before it hits you or you’ll be pulled into shore.”

I soon left her in the surf, once I realized she was practicing safe wave avoidance, and joined my kids, grandkids, and wife on shore. I hoped she didn’t think she was slipping. She was just a girl playing in the surf who didn’t want the crabs to bite her and was just a boy showing off.

The Beach Boys, 1964, Surfer Girl is an ode to the beauty and charm of women and the sea. The song captures the way a boy idolizes (POV) his gal in a natural setting.

The replay below is for the guys out there and for the way I remember, Christie, Margie, Lois (and that gal in Carlsbad) and the beauty of God's most wondrous creation.
Again, The Beach Boys singing Surfer Girl

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