The Only Black Girl in Santa Barbara

I love beach towns. What’s not to love? The gorgeous haze towering over Palm trees and the quaintly erected buildings that line up the pedicured landscape.

It’s a dream. Until you get to the water. The sky alights with each force of the magnified waves as they seduce me away from shore.

The truth of the battle waging in the froth of the ocean fills me with the weight of what I must do.

But I was wearing boots. It was a bit chilly and definitely not a South Beach moment transported.

But who cares? It’s Santa Barbara. I always wanted to come here in a similarly organic way. Nothing contrived or weirdly conceived.

Truth be told, there is a sick reason why I have been obsessed with this California gem. It’s a resultant of a debilitating crush I’ve had on an actor.

He’s not here anymore. But, when he was — he lived in Santa Barbara. Now that I’ve arrived, I get why this would be the perfect hideout for Hollywood types — aching for scenic refuge.

But I don’t fit that description. I’m just tagging along with a girlfriend who landed a sweet modeling gig in Montecito and asked me to ride down with her.

I was ecstatic. Fuck yeah! I will gladly submit myself to the avid beauty of a town that won’t reassure me that being the only black girl for miles — isn’t whack.

After taking Uber to the touristy enclave known as Stearns Wharf, I begin my purposeful trek along the beach in full meditation mode.

My mood fluctuates from desirable to unattainable.

I stop to channel the energy from the surfers as they challenge the feisty currents. I can’t help being swept away by imaginative forces.

What if. What if I was a twenty-four-old white girl — Luna. With mid-length blondish-copper hair that had just been chopped off. Sporting an adornment of freckles and an assortment of tattoos in racy places.

Yes, she’s primed to be the beloved but casually aloof girlfriend of a legendary surfer. She lays on the sand in erotic disarray as she gazes at her blond god — beckoning the waves with his well-trained physique.

It’s a dream. It’s real. It’s a dream. It’s real. It’s…

I’m suddenly lost in the elements. I need to recover. But how.

I’m not Luna!

I’m an accidental tourist who is the only black girl for miles — until the black couple mistakenly bumps into me as they rush into the water.

I want to follow them. But I have my damn boots on.

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