Damn those sailboats.What is it about the sleek curves, shiny handles, chiseled exterior, buffed hard wood floors, and full-bodied hull - all crashing against fiery waves. Gets me every time. Every. Time!
But nope, this girl has learned her lesson. Don't let them smooth sailboats take me for a ride. Uh-uhh. This time I know better. This time no sleepovers, no one night stands. After a few hours sailing the lake seas, I was respectfully going home, thank you very much. No matter how fun, how giddy, how enticing that ride would be, before embarking on that shiny vessel, I did the equivalent of not shaving my legs and promising, resolutely devoting myself, to come ashore with chastity belt intact and no way in hell was I sleeping with that boat.
Overnight on the houseboat in Kerala, India - jesus, twas near death.
Lake Cuomo, Italy - No way in hell was I rolling the dice.
Like a bad boyfriend that you just can't say no to, don't want to say no to. Never really right for ya, a thorn in your side, annoying and frustrating. The one you do more for than he does for you. Yet, soo charming, attractive and phantasmal that the tear-jerking memories erase themselves and once again you plunge into the depths of lust for someone...something...unreal.
Sailing. I just can't quit you.
BUT. The goal, the mission really, is that you learn from your mistakes. You manage your expectations and swallow a large dose of reality. And as one does, so did I. Lake Cuomo sailing I went. I would go on this exhilarating ride. I would enjoy the wind in my hair, tan on my back, undulating vibrations in my soul with my hands firmly on the wheel. No snoozing in the overnight berths, boat shoes securely kept on, hired private boat, pristine lavatories, even keel, champagne and strawberries - all in all, pure ecstasy.
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