How a Seiko Stole My Attention Poolside

Yesterday at high noon, the DHL courier arrived like a horological Santa Claus, delivering my latest obsession: the Seiko SBDC203, better known—if not memorably—as the Coastal Wave Diver. The timing was perfect. With the watch in hand (and on wrist), I could head to my in-laws’ pool in Long Beach with the appropriate mix of family warmth and flex-worthy wrist presence.

Naturally, I strapped it on immediately, opting for the black Divecore, a pairing so tasteful I nearly congratulated myself aloud. Once poolside, however, I became utterly useless to the people around me. The watch, that seductive little chameleon, kept shifting shades in the light—silvery, gunmetal, ocean deep. Every glint felt like a private epiphany. Conversations swirled, but I absorbed none of them. Someone could’ve told me they were moving to Croatia—I wouldn’t have noticed unless they wore something with brushed stainless steel.

And yet, my biggest existential crisis wasn’t aesthetic—it was numerical. The model number: SBDC203. My brain, already cluttered with references to my MM300 SLA023, couldn’t process another Seiko sequence. The digits tangle in my head like a bad dream about filing taxes or trying to memorize your kid’s Wi-Fi password. It’s as if my watch obsession has now spawned a case of reference number dyslexia.

Still, I believe I’ll recover. In the meantime, I’ll keep staring at this radiant beast and pretending that SBDC203 isn’t just a random string of characters from a parts manual—but a sacred sigil on the bezel of happiness.