My (now) hubby and I had been dating about a month when the following conversation took place (I knew he sailed/raced and had previously owned a power boat):
me: Are you ever going to buy a boat again?
him: No. Too much money/hassle/work/time.
The next day...
him: Guess what?
me: Uh oh. Um...what?
him: Moon and I are buying a boat.
me: I thought you said you were never buying another boat again.
him: Well, yeah, but we had a few drinks last night, and...
me: Say no more.
A week later the boat is in the water. Mind you, I am AFRAID OF THE WATER. Well, maybe 'afraid' isn't the right word. I just have NO desire to be anywhere in or near it. Especially if there's no chlorine involved and I can't touch the bottom, let alone see it.
him: Hop on.
me: Ha. Right. No hopping.
So he builds a little ladder thingy to facilitate said hopping (this was before the piers were lowered).
Off we go for my first sail. I didn't fall in. I didn't throw up. Thought about it. Didn't.
I spent that first summer being mildly sick to my stomach, but, being the trooper that I am, stuck with it. Then I figured since the boat would outlast me if I didn't figure out how to get along with her, I decided it was high time for me to learn how to make it go. And stop. From a practical standpoint, if anything should happen to The Man while we were out sailing, I was going to have to get myself home, so the lessons commenced.
Fast forward 8 years. We've sold our half of that boat, bought a bigger boat, and now we might be thinking about a different boat. Maybe. I don't want to jinx it.
But that's how it started. And, thanks to his encouragement and that of others, I am now a reasonably competent sailor who can dock her own boat. I have accepted that I will never understand it the way other people (notably the engineers that The Man races with) do, but I do just fine.
Lake Michigan - Racine, WI
Pau Hana - Pearson 35
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