They say the best stories start with good intentions, and oh boy, did mine. Picture this: a breezy June evening in Myrtle Beach, the kind you’d imagine being narrated by a ukulele soundtrack. My boyfriend at the time—let's call him “Trevor”—had this grand idea of a romantic paddleboarding adventure to catch the sunset. Us? Balanced on boards? Gliding gracefully through the water? This, dear reader, was his dream, painted in the golden hues of Nicholas Sparks novels. Spoiler alert: I’m no Rachel McAdams. I am, however, someone who’s learned that even the worst first dates can leave you with lessons—and maybe a good story to tell.

Let’s rewind to the misadventure that taught me more about balance (in and out of the water) than I ever could’ve imagined.

The Setup: Too Romantic to Fail

Trevor sold me on this idea at a bustling café over midweek bagels, his excitement palpable. “It’s easy,” he promised, his enthusiasm sweeping over me like the tide I’d clearly underestimated. “Everyone paddleboards these days—it’s basically a standing kayak.”

A standing kayak, huh? Sure. I’d spent my childhood by the water, but my experience with personal watercraft had been limited to an inflatable flamingo my dad proudly christened “Floaty McFloatface.” Nevertheless, swept up in Trevor’s charisma, I said yes. The sunset and ocean breeze did sound magical. And if Taylor Swift taught me anything, it’s that saying yes to a romantic gesture never backfires.

Titanic Vibes, Minus the String Quartet

The first 15 minutes were glorious. I mean, bookstore-romance-novel glorious. Trevor paddled like an old pro, all strong strokes and unwavering balance. Me? I was mostly kneeling, wobbling like Bambi on a sugar rush while trying to look effortlessly cute.

Then came the turn.

Turning a paddleboard, as it turns out, is a bit like trying to park in downtown Charleston during tourist season: you need confidence and precision, neither of which I possessed. When I veered too close to Trevor’s board, I panicked, attempted a sharp course correction, and promptly tipped over sideways like a clumsy mermaid. There’s nothing quite like watch-your-sandwich-go-flying panic, but make it aquatic.

I almost expected Trevor to dive in heroically, but instead, he tried to stifle a laugh, paddling closer with all the urgency of someone checking a three-day-old email. “Are you okay?” he called out, clearly holding back a grin.

Of course, I wasn’t okay. My dignity? Soaked. My favorite sneakers? (Yes, I wore sneakers on a paddleboard.) Submerged. My sense of romance? Marinating somewhere at the bottom of the marsh. But, I am Kaylee Harrington, coastal adventurer of sorts, and I wasn’t about to let one little tumble ruin the evening.

The Lesson: Authenticity Will Outfloat It All

Around the time I realized I’d never actually get the smell of brackish water out of my jeans, I had a lightbulb moment—possibly because I was ready to throw my paddle at Trevor’s smug smile. The entire time, I’d been trying to force this picture-perfect scene instead of embracing where the adventure had naturally taken us: to one big, soggy, laughable mess.

Real connection, as I would later tell myself (often), doesn’t require stunt-worthy theatrics. It requires honesty—and that includes admitting you’re better suited to post-sunset ice cream cones than paddleboards.

So, when Trevor offered me a hand to hoist myself back aboard, I waved him off. “Give me a sec,” I called cheerfully, using my paddle to nudge jellyfish away from my leg. “I’ve got this.” It wasn’t graceful or romantic, but it was a moment where I finally felt like me: a little wet, a little clumsy, and completely okay with it.

What I Learned So You (Hopefully) Won’t

If you’re itching for a sunset paddleboarding adventure of your own, by all means, go for it. But take a word of advice from someone who now owns a firsthand lesson in humility—and badly soaked denim.

  1. Dress for the Splash Zone:
    For the love of everything sacred, leave the sneakers at home. If it’s your first time paddleboarding, assume you will tumble into the water. Waterproof sandals, quick-dry shorts, and a lightweight top? Your future self will thank you.

  2. Communicate, Always:
    It’s okay to tell your partner, “Hey, I’m a little nervous about this.” They might laugh, but they’ll also (hopefully) adjust their expectations. Vulnerability? Super underrated.

  3. Don’t Chase Movie Moments:
    Whether it’s a paddleboard, a candlelit picnic, or (gasp) surfing lessons, stop fixating on crafting a romance montage and just enjoy wherever the moment takes you. Spoiler: It’s probably someplace salty, sandy, and kind of wonderful when you roll with it.

  4. Pack a Backup Plan:
    After our paddleboarding misfire, Trevor and I grabbed burgers at a dockside dive bar, sharing fries and laughing so hard at the day’s debacle that I nearly forgot to be annoyed. Romance isn’t about the activity as much as the effort—and sometimes, Plan B is where the magic lives.

The Takeaway: Laughter Is Unsinkable

In case you’re wondering, Trevor and I paddled off into separate sunsets a few months later—a story for another time. That said, I’ll never forget how that misadventure taught me to laugh at chaos instead of resisting it.

Romantic (mis)adventures, like life, are better when you let them be what they are: messy, surprising, and beautifully imperfect. Paddleboards optional.