Montauk.

by theappliedprocess

“I thought I’d know the consequence, sweetness, can you believe this? Mess we’ve made of it, this mess we’ve made of it. In years to come it might make sense, sweetness, can you believe this? What’s become of it? what’s become of it?”

It was in 2008 that I first heard of the Montauk Monster. A raccoon-like fur-less corpse had washed ashore in the beaches of Montauk, New York. I had no idea of the existence of such town prior to reading about this anomaly (or hoax) on a random internet website but it did, however, start yet another spark. What is it with me and disasters/catastrophes and my love for New York? Just like 9/11 ignited my desire to move to the city, this monster now ignited my desire to go to the eastern most part of the state.

Unbeknownst to ‘Nickle’, I’d been wanting to go to Montauk for a while now. The day he suggested we take a weekend trip together (and with Fire Island being out of the question because, other than the summer, it’s a homosexual zombie town) I was on board. I didn’t say how excited I was, but I was. We set the date to the weekend of November 12, and the he dealt with the rest. It feels nice to be taken care of sometimes.

And so Saturday started with waking up early and not giving in to our hangover. We didn’t shower, just finished packing, grabbed our bikes and headed to Penn station. We picked up some juice, coffee, and a couple of sandwiches, and waited till they called the platform for our LIRR train to depart. At around 12:30 pm we were on board. For the first part of the train, we didn’t seat, we just stood by the handicap section holding our bikes and trying to fully wake up. The ride didn’t take long before we needed to change. At Babylon we boarded the next and last leg of our 3 hour long trip. Breakfast, kisses, a nap, and some you tube videos later we were in our home away from home.

We rode our bikes from the station to the Montauk Surf Club, a series of townhouses nested right off the Atlantic beach. The town, due to the season, was pretty desolate, but this just added to the magic. I was extremely happy to be away from the city and all that it entails, and have the next 48 hours just for the two of us.

After dropping our bags, we went for a walk to the nearest grocery store to get some snacks and essentials (alcohol). I’d been wanting this to be an almost sober weekend, but of course that was almost out of the question. We both drink and what’s better than having a nice beer or some wine with your man while laying on a bed and hearing the ocean sounds from less than a block away? I had a mini tiff with myself about letting go and relaxing, but I don’t think I was very successful so I planned on drinking myself numb. (Today, I read a lot about how to manage anxiety. I wish I had done that a few weeks ago).

We got back to the room and opened a beer. We talked about us and how we were finally going to have sex. I’m not sure if I’ve talked about this, but to that day we hadn’t had proper intercourse for various different reasons. We both decided to wait and, after a somewhat planned deliberation, we opted to finally do it in Montauk. Cue the fire works. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that level of connection with any of the previous 7 or 8 fuckees. It was magic.

After laying in bed for a few minutes looking like a Pollock from the neck down and sporting an R. Patz set of hair from the neck up (apparently, if you google “sex hair”, Robert Patinsson’s picture comes up a lot), we took another shower and headed to dinner at ENE, an asiany inspired nicer looking sea food place right off the lake.

Whilst waiting for a table, we ordered two drinks by the bar and started what would be a very long, very nice, very pivotal conversation. The more I read about my anxiety, the more I understand it, and the more I find ways of coping with it. That being said, one of the ways is being reassured somewhat constantly that most my fears and doubts are completely irrational. During the conversation, and without me asking, ‘Nickle’ did just that, by saying things like how much he loves me, how happy I make him, how different he feels about me from how he’s felt with others in the past, and how he does see us living together. Again, all these things seem sort of cliche, but when said at the right moment, they hold enough power to subdue whatever anxiety I was going through.

We left the restaurant and, although I was tired and wanted to go home with him, he suggested we go for a nightcap. I reluctantly obliged but later I was happy I did. We had a couple of drinks at The Shagwong Tavern, a super kitschy local dive bar. We continued our conversation because God knows I love to talk and I never shut up. Again, anxiety and all I was happy to be in Montauk. Three whiskeys later, we were on our way home to have one last shag before finally shutting our eyes. Day one: success.

Sunday morning we laid in bed watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother. We tried doing the dirty again but, since we’ve both pretty much honorably regained our virginity, our bodies were not ready for round two. Instead we reverted to familiar behavior and sucked each other’s dick dry.  A shower followed, and then a bike ride around town looking for a place to brunch only to end at a little diner off the main road. The plan for the day included a five mile bike ride east to the lighthouse, but before doing so, we went souvenir shopping at an overpriced convenience store. Not much to say about that other than I spent 10 dollars on a deck of UNO.

The ride east was hillier than we had thought. There were moments were I cursed the day we decided it’d be a good idea to bring our bicycles, yet at the same time, I see no other more convenient way of getting to that point on Long Island. After about a half hour ride, we were there, smack in the middle of nothing was a cylindrical tower of sandstone and a few other smaller buildings, and a steep grass hill in which we rolled down. We paid the fee to walk up the stairs to the room harboring the fresnel lens. The place was beyond magical. Here I was 100+ feet above ground in the eastern most part of my favorite state in America with the man I love being blown by 50mph winds… if it doesn’t sound like a pretty picture trust me, it was!

It was getting somewhat late (because the sun sets so early these days), that we decided to go buy more unnecessarily overpriced unnecessary souvenirs (although I did get some super cute x-mas cards), and ride back to a different part of Montauk for some much needed lobster bake.

Our trek proved pointless as we ended up biking north through more hills only to find out that the two places we were looking to dine in were closed for the season. Yes, Montauk is magical in the fall, but no, it’s not super convenient to find places around town that are not “closed for the season”. We sucked up our frustration, mustered up our second wind, and biked back to downtown. This time, ‘Nickle’ walked part of the hills, I might as well should’ve done the same because, although I was on my bike, he was probably walking faster than I was pedaling. Just as the sun was setting, we picked up some dumplings to snack on before dinner from a hole-in-the-wall chinese establishment, a bottle of coke to make some Kalimoxto, and got back to our little love nest.

Later that night, we finally got our wish granted when we took a somewhat uncomfortable cab ride (the driver asked us for donations for his son’s surgery) to the west side of Montauk to Gurney’s Inn for a delicious two pound lobster dinner. I have never had as much crustacean goodness as I had that night and, despite it being all messy, it was one of the most romantic experiences I’ve ever had.

More stuffed than a turkey on Thanksgiving, we called another cab to head back. I don’t think we were conscious enough to fool around. The food coma sent us directly to bed.

On the last day of our romantic getaway, I woke up at 3 in the morning freaking out a bit. Yes, if it’s not clear by now, the anxiety happens often. The boyfriend, unknowingly again, reassured me that everything was good and I went back to bed. A few hours later I was back up. This time for good. We got ready and went for some short stacks at Anthony’s Pancake and Waffle House. Having still a few hours to kill, we went back to the room for round three. Again, not very successful, so we took a shower, and headed for a drink while we waited for the train to depart. The Shagwong Tavern became our Montauk Abbey.

Finally, at around 3 pm, we biked back to the station and hopped on the LIRR back to Manhattan. I napped part of the way there and read a fifth of “The Devil in the White City”. We were home in Brooklyn at around 7 pm.

For this being our first getaway together, I’d like to say that I was extremely pleased. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I certainly had my fair share of anxiety attacks, but then again how is that different from my everyday? In a way, it solidified our relationship. It drew us closer and more scared, at the same time, as the stakes had never been higher. I was glad to hear I was not alone in feeling this way, and I was also glad to hear that my boyfriend is opening up more than I’ve ever seen him do… I wonder what will happen when we go upstate this winter.

“If you hear this and you think you’re ready, then meet me in Montauk where we’ll write out in the sand: ‘Here lies the destiny of 2 hurt souls afraid to be cured again.’ That could be our epitaph.”

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