← All confessions · Vacation Fling 2026-10-20

The Surf Instructor

She booked one surf lesson in Bali. She took fourteen. She never stood up once.

How it started

I went to Bali for a solo trip after a breakup, with a strict plan: yoga, smoothies, journaling and absolutely no men. On day two I booked a single surf lesson as character building. My instructor was a laid-back Australian with sun-bleached hair who said 'mate' to everyone, including me. I fell off the board the first time, the second time and the next thirty times. Every time, he paddled over, laughed, steadied the board and said, 'Again.' I booked a second lesson. And a third. By the end of the week I'd stopped pretending it was about the surfing.

Then it happened

After lesson fourteen he asked if I wanted to watch the sunset somewhere without a board. We sat on the beach until the stars came out and talked about everything except the breakup. I flew home three days later, still unable to stand on a surfboard and completely unbothered by it. We still text every week. My mum still asks if I learned to surf. I tell her I learned lots.

The morning after

Her friends saw the beach photos and staged an intervention over brunch. She insists it was purely educational. The Australian now sends voice notes from the beach every Sunday, and she has booked a 'surf retreat' for next spring. Still no plans to stand up on the board.