Poseidon

"I am Posiedon! I came to the land because of my love for you, but I am still transfixed by swimming." Drew stated boldly.

"That would explain your obsession with horses as well." I replied. Poseidon being the God of horses and the father of Pegasus.

My husband (Drew) and I sat side by side in the bucket seats of his sporty grey Hyundai, as we bounced and dipped down a country back road in the early light of a radiant autumn morning.

The trees were already magnificent with their changing colors but as the sun rose over the distant mountains, it backlit them and created an ethereal brilliance. Golds, reds, oranges, even burgundy. Mist rose off the vivid green grass which was still wet from an overnight rain shower, now dazzling in the sunlight.

I took it all in as we zoomed along and smiled as I listened to his story.

"I've swam just shy of 7,000 miles in my life, one day at a time. If someone told me when I was younger that I would swim nearly 10,000 miles I would have thought 'well shit, I'm going to be swimming alot!'

(At that, I giggled.)

"When I was growing up, I didn't have many experiences with water except maybe a few near drowning incidents. At the age of 24 a friend taught me how to swim laps and it opened up doors for me. Ever since then, I've been racking up miles.

"My best friend in Arizona used to call me Poseidon.

"You are Godly my love" I mused back "and you can still swim circles around me." A captivating smile stretched broadly across his face, and he glanced at me knowingly out of the corner of his eye, raising one eyebrow for emphasis.

As long as I have known him, Drew has loved the water. He wakes up extra early four days a week so that he can be in the local gym pool to swim laps by 630am. During the covid lockdowns in 2020, that is what he missed the most. I have spent many a hot summer afternoon lounging in the sunshine lazily on shore as I watch him disappear, then reappear on the horizon of whatever lake we happen to be visiting. We even went swimming together on our first date. (Well, sort of...)

We had known each other for probably 17 years before we even considered dating. We have always had an excellent rapport. Conversations are easy between us. We had similar upbringings and therefore, share many values. We also both like to tell stories and have no fear of any topic, nor shame when it comes down to the details. We often talk nonsense for hours, putting each other on, elaborating on past experiences or profiling characters we have met. We even make up pretend comedy routines to test out on each other, then belly laugh together for hours. Our discourse flows seamlessly from one topic to the next, providing us with endless mutual enjoyment.

Drew has always fascinated me with his outgoingness and willingness to be the center of attention in social settings, which is just perfect because I am very quiet. Even though we have historically been unabashedly open with each other, I think my general shyness all these years kept him curious about and interested in me. Because of this, our public interactions have occasionally been quite comical, almost like a long, slow, budding romantic-comedy romance.

An example being; a long-ago summer day when I was around 19 years old, working a sidewalk sale at a local boutique, Drew drove by with his windows down and yelled out "Lizzy, you're so pretty!" All of the women shopping turned around just in time to see my dumb smile and flushing cheeks.

We have always had an innocently flirtatious relationship but typically we had other partners. Once in a while one of us would turn up single but not for long and never both of us at the same time.

In the summer of 2015 Drew was doing my hair (a hairdresser by trade) and asked how things were going for me. He now likes to remind me that my response at the time was something along the lines of "I am really unhappy so I drink all the time and now I'm becoming fat and unhappy." He responded pointedly "Then change something."

After much contemplation, the thing that I decided would elicit the most effective and desired progress toward my perosnal wellbeing was my marital status. During the fall, I changed that to divorced.

In the spring of 2016, Drew heard through the grapevine that my dad had passed away. One morning in the gym, after his swim, he tracked me down to give me his condolences. He also informed me that his relationship had recently ended, then apologized for interrupting my work out. Naturally, the next time I was down town I stopped by his salon to tell him 'There is never a bad time to let someone know that you care about them' and to see if he would be interested in going to a parkour class together.

It appreared as though the stars were beginning to align for us.

However, he showed up to the one class that I skipped.

Time passed.

He became impatient and texted me.

"So, I was thinking, we could either go on a picnic at the lake, or we could order in some Chinese food, throw down and get after it. What do you think?" ...Not the most romantic first date proposal. Was that a...? Oh yeah...He was definitely propositioning me.

"OMG....I'm laughing so hard that I almost just peed my pants." I immediately texted back. I mean, way to test the waters buddy! I thought. "Let's go on a picnic." I messaged after a few minutes without response from him.

Torn between being offended and amused, the day of our planned first date I considered leaving a small gift bag on my front door step filled with some lube and kleenex but decided that taking my chances and actually going on said date would be much more emotionally lucrative. Although we had been friends for many years, I was genuinely interested in this man on a romantic level, an unusual occurence for me.

I did make sure to voice my displeasure at his tactless proposal. He redeemed himself by expaining that he needed to know where we stood and that was the fastest way to find out. Reading into his words I realized that he was already emotionally invested, plus I appreciated his rare honesty and sense of humor, so I forgave him. We still laugh about it.

For our first date picnic, he took me to Howard Prarie Lake to a beach I had never been to before. It was nestled into a little cove and surrounded by tall pines which provided privacy, we were completely alone. He spread a blanket on the sand and had a cooler full of delicious snacks, which he carried all by himself down a long walking trail from his car to our chosen spot, refusing my multiple offers to help.

Since he didn't know what I liked to drink he brought several different options including bottled water, sparkling water, juice, kombucha and iced tea. It was very thoughtful. I admired his chivalry.

I loved the beach, but I didn't love swimming. I planned ahead by bringing a pool floaty that belonged to my children, so that I could enjoy the water without getting 'too wet.' Being in excellent physical condition at the time, I felt emboldened to wear the skimpiest bathing suit that I owned, just to torture him a bit.

If you happened to observe the two of us from the coastline that day, you would have seen a curous sight about 35 feet out from the muddy shore; shallow waves lapping seductively at the bronzed curvature of a young, athletic bodied woman's thighs while she floated half out of the murky water -ass up- on what appeared to be a life-sized inflatable alligator. The darkness of the lake and reflection of trees on water accentuated her tiny white swathe of a bikini which was stretched tightly and strategically across all the right places. Her blonde ponytail bobbed enthusiastically as she reacted to the banter of an incredibly statuesque, clean shaven and bald-headed gentleman whose defined muscles were buttered with tattoos. He chatted away cooly while swimming circles around her, enjoying his view tremendously. Donning a speedo, just to torture her a little.

But like I said before, we were completely alone that day. No one else was anywhere near. Or if there was anyone watching us, we paid no mind or matter. We were captivated by each other, splashing around in the dirty lake and talking up a storm a million miles per minute, only pausing on occasion to smile at each other and giggle amourously.

Hmmm....What to make of this scene? Possibly some kind of backwoods redneck mating ritual in full swing? Or could it have been Poseidon swimming circles around the Naiad Salamis? Lusting after her. Scheming up a plan in that very moment to take her away to their own private island where they could live out the rest of their days together in adoration and ecstasy.