The author, aboard his beloved Elsa in Stage Harbor. Photo courtesy David Roper
Spring 2024
By David Roper
I am a sailor, you’re my first mate,
We signed on together, we coupled our fate,
Hauled up our anchor, determined not to fail,
For the heart’s treasure, together we set sail.
Christy Moore, “The Voyage”
People always did stare at her. I was flattered. Well, she is a beauty. As their eyes drifted over her curves, I wasn’t jealous. After sensing their envy, I knew what they were thinking. And, I have to admit it here, I was flattered. I even wanted to make her more beautiful. After all, she was mine.
We’d been together for many years, and perhaps I’d grown lax about the profundity of our relationship over those two-plus decades. Perhaps I took things for granted; perhaps I assumed I was the one and only in her eyes, too. Oh, I’m not saying there weren’t occasional storms, strains, and even broken moments. And she was getting to be a handful. We had our trials and tribulations. Sometimes it was frustrating.
But over time, on both sides, it had been a faithful relationship. Sure, I looked around too, sneaking a glance at others here and there, both at the real thing and also at pictures while sitting in the head, holding open one of those glossy, full-color magazines.
Over the years, I found that most of those men (and some women) who looked longingly at her meant no harm, posed no threat to stealing her away. No, I was a lucky man.
But then, about a year ago, one man got more persistent; he began sniffing around more than the others ever had. Oh, he was subtle at first, nodding his head, saying things like “you’re a lucky man, Dave” and “she’s a beauty,” but he was careful beyond that. Nice guy, certainly. We even became friends. Maybe it was then that I dropped my guard, feeling that his looks at her were innocuous, that my relationship was so secure there was nothing to worry about.
But then they started spending time together. Just friends at first. Of course. But we all know how these things go; one thing leads to another, and before you know it . . . well, you’ve lost her.
It’s been over for about a month as I write this, and I’ve been trying to be responsible about what happened. I’ve offered support, and wished him good luck with her – the same kind of luck I had. And now the cycle will start over again: People will still stare at her, admire her graceful curves, and maybe even make a pass at her, trying to take her away from him.
As for me, rather than dwelling on my loss, I found another. In fact, I found the sister of my old girl. She’s younger. A bit shorter. Not quite as pretty. But easy to handle. This relationship, I’m hoping, will last me until I “cross the bar.”
Dave Roper’s “new” boat is a 1980 Cape Dory 25, a sister ship to his original Chang Ho, on which he sailed far and wide, and wrote about extensively in Points East and in his best-selling book, “Watching for Mermaids.”
