By now, it was a chest-high closeout and she was paddling with gusto. My eyes widened as I waited for her boyfriend to call her off the wave, but he didn’t. He just watched her paddle straight into a wave that would quickly become a pit bull to her rag doll body.

It picked her up and began angling her vertically before I lost sight of her. Then I heard a scream. It wasn’t an “I’m dying” scream; it was an “I think I might die” scream. I looked over at her boyfriend, who was smiling, not devilishly, but definitely enjoying her peril just a little bit more than a loved one should. It was a grin that spurred my involuntary rebuke. “You’re supposed to tell her not to go for those.” He flashed a knowing smile and said simply, “She’s gotta learn.”

Early on in life, parents freak out if their kid splashes into six inches of water without holding on to a grownup’s hand. They shake their finger and scare the poor tot with the threat of “rips,” “sharks” and “drowning.” But somewhere we evolve to silently watching a loved one get slammed by a wave because "She’s gotta learn." How does that happen? Now I’m all for learning, even the hard way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate some proffering of information beforehand.

When I explain to my students the ramifications of “pearling” (when your board’s nose goes straight down and you imitate a pearl diver drilling headfirst into the sand), I tell them, “It’s like getting an oceanic enema. Water will go in every possible orifice. It’s not fun, it’s not comfortable, but I think knowing about it makes it less startling when it happens.” Guess what? It still happens; they still do it; they still learn; but many have paddled back out to me and said, “That was less scary because I knew what was happening.” Imagine that.

So, back to the dastardly boyfriend. I don’t imagine he cares less about his girlfriend than I do about my students, so why didn’t he warn her? Why didn’t he say, “When the lip feathers, back off, because you’re going nowhere but down fast and probably painfully.” Maybe he knows her better than I do—okay, he probably does—and knows that she doesn’t want to know anything bad that can happen because then fear will immobilize her, but it just didn’t seem that way. (Those girls don’t usually bother to paddle out in the first place.)

She probably had to learn the hard way, but I have to think that if had shared his experience, she’d be cooing, “You know all. I will listen to you.” And that has to be way better for him than “Why didn’t you warn me, you sadistic bastard?”

My ultimate contention is that I believe there is more than a semantic difference between “She’s gotta learn” and “She’s gonna learn.” At some point, this girl might surf without her boyfriend. There might be a time when he’s inside paddling back out, or looking the other way. Eventually, she will face the ocean all by her little self—and the ocean is gonna whoop her good. He really doesn’t have to worry about coddling her, because no matter how many times he warns her, she’s still gonna get worked. It’s nature. Nature kicks our butt on a regular basis.

Just as I was about to drown this imbecilic male to save the poor lass, the girl sat made the paddle back out and sat up on her board. I glanced over and saw her smiling in that “Did you see me get worked?” way. Good for her, I thought, for taking it and coming back for more. Then, just as I was thinking this punk didn’t deserve this fabulous chick, he said the most incredible thing.

“There was a way to tell that wave was bad and going to do that to you. What you look for is…”

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Elisabeth Gause is a freelance writer and frequent contributor to Vyuz.