Going It Solo

My boyfriend Criss and I met a couple of summers ago at Mariners Point Golf Course, but we were both there for extremely different reasons, he for the obvious one, golf, I for karaoke. The golf course houses a bar that hosts karaoke on Friday nights, and when Criss came in to grab a Coke, my friend Kate, who had introduced me to the karaoke scene at Mariners, introduced me to Criss. After that night, we talked a few times on Facebook, and on one particularly frustrating day, I sent him a text asking if he wanted to do something that night, and I ended up at his house watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The rest, as they say, is history.

Since then, we've seen each other almost every day; after I graduated I moved in with him and his other roommates, so at minimum I see him when I get up in the morning or before I go to bed at night. He's part of my daily routine.

Not this weekend. Criss had the nerve, no, the audacity to go away for the weekend with the guys, leaving me with only one choice to preserve my sanity: fill up my weekend with things to do.

So Saturday afternoon I went to Santa Cruz.

My friend Holly, one of only two classmates I'm still in touch with from K-8 school, put out a feeler on Facebook a couple of weeks ago, inquiring whether some of her friends would be interested in a bonfire on the beach. Knowing I'd be alone and not wanting to mope around the house all day, I told her I was game, so there I was on Saturday winding my way down 17 (to the dismay of my stomach) to see Holly in Santa Cruz for the first time since she moved there from Sacramento.

I wasn't sure what to expect. As extroverted as I am, I still have parts of my shy nature left over from grade school and I'm a little uneasy in new social situations. She'd be the only person I'd know at this gathering; I hadn't even met her boyfriend. I just prayed I wouldn't be stuck awkwardly in some corner playing aimlessly with the sand.

I was pleasantly surprised.

When I arrived Holly was ecstatic to see me, and we went on a fun shopping excursion at her neighborhood Safeway to procure goodies for the evening's festivities, then headed over to Seabright Beach and set up camp, which consisted of our backup Webber grill since all the firepits were taken and a few blankets held down by every somewhat heavy item we had on hand.

And then we did the only thing you can do in the afternoon on May 21, 2001 - muse about the Rapture.

Holly's boyfriend regaled us with his plan to find shelter in the nearby lighthouse in the event of a zombie attack, complete with a plan to escape from the lighthouse if needed.

Unfortunately, we realized the tin foil had been raptured, or maybe it just didn't make it in the bag, so while Holly and one of the other girls popped over to 7-11 to get more foil, Holly's boyfriend, the girl's boyfriend, and I plopped down on a log and watched with amusement while everyone on the beach remained untouched when 6 p.m. rolled around.

Then, as luck would have it, the two women using the fire pit next to us got up to leave and relinquished their pit to us, so I set up our blanket kitchen over there while the boys tried to get the fire going.

Holly and the other girl returned (they weren't raptured either) and dinner commenced as we created hobo packs (you haven't lived if you haven't had a hobo pack - just throw some meat, veggies, potato, cheese and condiments into tin foil, wrap it up, cook over fire, and you have a tasty hobo pack). Two girls showed up for a bit then left again, and another came for keeps. Best of all, I was never bored, and I was never left out, so my first beach bonfire was a huge success.

So all in all, my weekend of going it solo was a good one, but I'll be glad to hug my Criss tonight.