I’m not sure if it’s possible to cheat on a boat. But if it is, I have: in thought and deed.
I’m in love.
I covet my neighbour’s boat.
To be clear—it wasn’t my idea to sail outside my own hulls. We hadn’t been anchored at Musket Cove for more than an hour when a total stranger dinghied up to our boat and asked if we planned to race in the round Malolo Island race. Bruce (it turns out 50% of Kiwi sailors are called Bruce btw…) said he was looking for crew and if we were interested in mixing things up a bit…
We have a jury-rigged shroud and our old main is about to dissolve (new rig and sail arrive this weekend!!) so we said we probably wouldn’t sail and which boat was his? He pointed at a very hot looking cat anchored near us. “The F41?” Evan asked in a rather squeaky voice, “Yes, we’ll crew.”
I’ve had the occasional boat crush—but typically I lust over something specific—a hull layout, a really roomy stateroom, doors… But when we climbed aboard the F41 this morning I realized why Evan squeaked: This is the boat of my fantasies. Darkly sultry dreams I never even knew I had. I have never been aboard a boat that is more perfectly what I want—it’s everything I love about our boat combined with a whole bunch of details I’ve yearned for. And this was even before we raised the sails.
After we raised the sails it was hopeless—I’m not sure if it was the first time I rotated the mast, or when the boat started to thrum as we hit the sweet spot, or when we started chewing up the fleet and spitting them out. But as we passed big, lusty, fast boats and just effortlessly kept accelerating through gusty winds and good-sized seas I decided I had to have one—an F41 of my own.
|the kind of view that leaves me weak-kneed and breathless|
So as Evan and Maia head to the awards ceremony with Bruce and Diana to claim our prizes I’m trying to sort out how to get this boat. If we sell everything we have and work maybe ten, fifteen years it should be doable…
Oh my cheating heart.