Love At Sea

Here’s a snippet from my conversation with my hairdresser last week:

“So, I know this might be kind of personal, but do you have a boyfriend?” Keep in mind, he was very obviously gay with flowing locks and lavish tales of boyfriends past, so confused, I simply answered “no”.  Then I realized, he was asking as it pertains to my love life and sailing around constantly as we had previously discussed earlier with my head full of foils.

Now listen, I never saw “The Loveboat” but I can tell you that I ain’t on it.  The other two couples onboard might think differently, and I sure hear about all the “love” that takes place on a nightly (and sometimes morningly(?)) basis.  On occasion I’ve had to immerse myself in whatever young adult dystopian fantasy book I’m reading just to ignore the fact that I’m the only one in the crew mess having breakfast. I mean I get it, but I’d rather not think about it first thing in the morning.

Even the radio is making fun of me.

Even the radio is making fun of me.

I’ve said before that this job has an abundance of pros, but this is one of the more notable cons: being stuck on a boat without the hint (or chance, really) of a love life.  


When you’re moving around every few weeks, it’s understandable that dating would be difficult.  When you’re constantly toting around a maniacal toddler, it’s even more understandable.  Even if something did spark, inevitably they’d have to meet my Aussie entourage (also known as the rest of the crew) and that just wouldn’t be fun for anyone.  Well, that’s not true.  It would be too much fun for them, and absolutely miserable for me.

The internet only makes it worse.  Do I like seeing 5+ engagement announcements per week from my peers on Facebook?  Absolutely not.  Don’t even get me started on this year’s wedding season which went from “rapidly approaching” to “holy shit it’s f#$*&@ wedding season” in the blink of an eye.  And when did people my age start getting excited about the plus sign on a pregnancy test?  I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.  In all seriousness, congratulations to all of you lucky in loves.  Just get the hell off my Facebook newsfeed, please and thank you.

Here’s the thing:  It’s not like if I moved on land and got a steady job then POOF! I’d have a boyfriend. Honestly, I’d probably just be single and cynical (who, me?!) on land.  Not a good look for me.  At least this way I have an excuse for my…independence.  Yep, we’re going with “independence”.

Seriously, I’m having the experience of a lifetime and if sacrificing something like sharing stale pizza on the floor in my parents’ basement (because this English major would DEFINITELY still be living at home- heyyy economy!) is what it takes, then so be it.  All you dudes will just have to wait ’til I get back from Timbuktu, or you know, wherever.

So listen up,  if you are worried about your biological clock and your shriveling ovaries/waning egg count, probably stay away from yacht work.  I’ll hold down the fort.

It's cool, I've got pizza, and that's pretty much the same thing as love.

It’s cool, I’ve got pizza, and that’s pretty much the same thing as love.


One response to “Love At Sea

  1. Hahaha, I’m laughing out loud as I read this. The traveling life can be murder on relationships. Wait, what am I saying *life* can be murder on relationships! Have fun. You’ll have lots of stories to share with the one who comes along after you come back from Timbuktu!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s