Dating on a Cruise Ship

When I informed my uncle about the job I got on the cruise ship, he said this would be a ripe opportunity to meet a girl.  I considered this:  there was a finite population of females within a confined space.  Surely I would bump into someone who struck my fancy, and when I did we’d already have so much in common.  It takes a particular adventurous spirit to accept a job on a cruise ship in Hawaii for a five month contract.  I was already increasing my chances of finding a like-minded individual who shares similar dreams.  Before I set foot on the vessel, I was confident I would find my ideal girlfriend.

During my first week onboard, however, I quickly changed my mind.  I vowed not to get involved with anyone.  First of all, there was no time.  I had to work twelve hours every day.  I barely had enough time to eat breakfast or get enough sleep at night.  I couldn’t imagine worrying about someone else in addition to myself. 

So I closed myself off; I was in survival mode.  I woke up with enough time to eat breakfast before my shift.  During meals I sat by myself and read a book while I ate.

I never hung out with anybody.  Instead, I bought a fold-up bike and went for long rides by myself.  After work, I gobbled up my usual snack of two peanut butter and honey sandwiches with two glasses of milk and I went straight to bed. 

I was scoping the place out before I got comfortable.  Who are these people? I asked myself.  Who’s worth knowing?  I prefer to keep a small circle of friends.  There’s a very particular way I like to socialize.  I don’t care for much gossip, small talk, and pessimism.  I stay away from all that.  Part of me thought half of my shipmates were uneducated and slightly uncivilized, but the other half of me was afraid to say that out loud.  What was I getting myself into here? Was I in the wrong place?  Everyone kept warning us new hires to be careful about the company we keep.  The training specialist said that, and even the engineer echoed that sentiment.  I took their advice, but, still, I poked my head out and asked questions.

My roommate was a twenty-something, laid-back Californian who always called me dude.  He had a girlfriend who was prone to use similar diction.  They were together all the time lying on my roommate’s bed.  She would come over during the day and take a nap, or they’d watch That 70’s Show together.  They’d go out to eat or go shopping together when we were in port.  Every night, without fail, she’d sleep over, and sometimes I’d hear them making noises even though they were clearly trying not to.  They were inseparable.

The girlfriend said being in a relationship was helpful to deal with the stress of ship life.  I surmised that she was referring to the sex, but she also assured me that bonds between two people on the ship form very quickly and strongly because we are enduring the same struggle.  We are all fighting the same fight and living in rooms without windows.  Life can be lackluster, so we seek to discover new worlds within each other.

My roommate would often hit up the bar at night, and before he left he would ask me if I was going out.  With a book in my hand, I would always reply in the negative.  “I want to get my rest,” I would say.  Or:  “I have to get up early.”  My roommate never seemed satisfied with my responsible demeanor, so he would goad me into leading a more scandalous existence. 

“If you don’t go out in the beginning of your contract,” he said to me, “Then you’ll never go out.”

“Going out isn’t really my thing,” I said. 

“You don’t want to get yourself a nice ship slut?  It’s so easy, dude.”

“No, not really,” I said.  “That doesn’t appeal to me.”

I wasn’t looking for an empty sexual encounter.  I noticed a few attractive girls at work, but I could never bring myself to initiate a one-night stand.  I wanted to use this experience to build my character and become a man of integrity.  Having a casual affair didn’t seem like the right way to achieve my goal, so I never entertained the thought.

But still there was a quiet voice rising inside me.  After the usual barrage of get-to-know-you questions, I would ask my coworkers, “What do you think about dating on the ship?” I’m beginning to realize that when I’m afraid to admit the truth to myself, I seek confirmation from others to verify my normalcy.  In other words, I still wanted to find a girlfriend, even though I knew it was a bad idea.  But maybe a few respectful individuals could convince me to go against my better judgment.

Most people came up with similar answers.  Dating someone would be fun, distracting, or suffocating.  There were no casual serious relationships.  Couples were always together, holding hands on Route 66 or kissing in the crew mess.  And what about the guests?  Nearly everyone sailing on the ship was on their honeymoon or celebrating their 40^th anniversary.  I’ve been waiting on couples for a few years, and I’ve listened to the stories of how they met.  Before every story begins, the end is inconceivable.  Every couple probably thinks at some point that the odds are against them, yet they fall in love anyway. Forty years later, this same couple is sharing a meal on a cruise ship sailing around the Hawaiian Islands telling a young man how they overcame those odds. 

For a while now, I’ve been on the outside looking in.  Relationships seemed like things that happened to other people, as though I was somehow immune.  With roughly a month left on my contract, I decided it was time to be social, and my timing couldn’t have been worse (or better).  Surely it would be foolish to get involved with a girl when I would be leaving in five weeks, especially considering it is highly likely the girl will live far from my hometown.  Despite the protests from my rational mind, that is precisely what happened, but I’m glad I ignored my voice of reason.

What ensues is largely due to a combination of luck, head-over-heels infatuation, and a determination to maintain the union.  I’m not one to believe in fate.  I prefer to think that your course in life is mostly random and unpredictable, but along the way a rare opportunity may fall in your lap.  You might not have this chance again, so you must seize it immediately.

During a particular Tuesday afternoon, I happened to be eating lunch in the crew mess in my usual spot with this week’s book in front of my face.  I finished my meal and promptly proceeded toward the dish pit to discard my trash.  Along the way, I heard a voice calling my name.  I turned around.  A beautiful woman with blond hair, let’s call her Erica, was seeking my attention. 

“What are you doing today?” she asked me.

The question caught me by surprise.  I was planning to ride my bike into Hilo because I wanted to exchange this novel I bought at a secondhand bookstore.  A few weeks earlier, the owner of the bookshop persuaded me into buying Hotel Honolulu by Paul Theroux, but I found the story to be dreadfully boring and distastefully smutty.  I wanted to see if the owner would allow me to swap that trashy book for another one I had my eye on. 

I summarized my plans to Erica but neglected to mention I would be riding my bike.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” she asked. 

Usually I got off the ship by myself because I could leave whenever I wanted, and I could go as far as I wanted to go.  I never faced this question before, but I relented.  We agreed to meet at the gangway and then proceed to the Hoppa-On, Hoppa-Off Bus into town.  When I returned to my room to retrieve the necessary identification to disembark the ship, I wondered about Erica’s intentions.  She was obviously very friendly.  In the crew mess, she would stop and talk to nearly everyone.  Was she merely being friendly with me? 

I recalled a conversation we shared in the crew mess when I learned that she studied photography, and I told her about my travels.  I also asked her what room temperature she prefers, and she said somewhere around sixty-eight degrees.  That, too, is my ideal temperature, I remarked.  Then I jokingly suggested we should get married because we’ve covered everything important about co-existing.  Before we parted, she told me she could talk to me all day.

We took the bus into Hilo, and we never ran out of things to say.  In the bookshop, she browsed on her own, clearly searching for a specific genre.  I picked up a book called Adrift, a true story of a man floating across the Atlantic Ocean on a life raft for over two months.  I was intrigued by this woman who boldly tagged along on my trip, and now here she was interested in the same books as I was.  After we left the bookstore, she bought me a coffee because I didn’t have any cash and we stopped at a café that didn’t accept credit cards.  Then I told her about the kind of place I’d like to live in the future, and I was already forming plans to see her tomorrow. 

We hung out briefly for the next few days until the ship sailed to Honolulu, and she called my room to pick my brain about what there was to do there.  We decided to take a tour of the Iolani Palace.  We had to wear booties over our shoes so we wouldn’t get the original carpet dirty.  Erica took her camera, and I watched her in awe as she took pictures of the ornate interiors.  I have a great amount of respect for anyone who’s passionate about a hobby, especially an artistic hobby.  The whole point of being social is to exchange ideas and transform each other’s viewpoints.  This girl seemed to have the potential to change the way I looked at the world.

The next day on Maui, she won me over.  We decided to go for a hike in Iao Valley.  She led me past the viewpoint of the needle and ducked under a fence and trotted past the sign that warned us not to go in the very direction she was heading.  I had no choice but to follow her.  She wasn’t afraid to step in the mud or climb up a tree.  She even wore a ballcap to keep the hair out of her eyes.  This girl is a keeper, I told myself, and I’d be a fool not to snatch her up. 

If I was going to start something, then I had to prepare myself to go all in.  I didn’t want some half-assed fling that will end as a fading memory, so I decided to hold her hand on the way back.  She let go to take pictures of the Portuguese Gardens, and when she finished she grabbed my hand.  I knew that whatever I was feeling, there was a good chance she was feeling it, too.

I decided to be very upfront with her about my intentions.  I had been in a similar situation before.  I became attached to someone in a faraway land, and we both had separate flights to catch at the end of the month.  I learned that you try to protect yourself from the inevitable pain, but once you become detached you are giving up on the relationship.  If you want to succeed, you have to charge ahead despite knowing you must endure a sorrowful goodbye.

This time around I wasn’t going to hold anything back.  I was leaving in four weeks.  Whatever I had to say I had to say it now.  We had to seize every opportunity that arose.  We had to throw ourselves completely into the present moment so that our bond would prove strong enough to withstand the distance that would separate us in the future.  For the remainder of my contract, I spent as much time as I could with her.  I slept less.  I ate my meals faster so I could steal a few more minutes with her before work.  I didn’t read nearly as many books as I did when I was anti-social.  But I didn’t care.  My roommate’s girlfriend was right:  you form strong bonds here, and fast.

When we weren’t together, I contemplated ways we could remain together after we both left the ship.  I live in Florida, and she lives in South Carolina.  For the last year, I’ve been planning a three-month hike in the wilderness, and she’s got nine weeks of vacation to figure out her next move.  Ever since I graduated from college, I always knew what my next step would be.  I created a three year plan that would allow me to build my resume and travel.  I did not factor a girl in that plan.  I just figured I’d meet someone along the way with the hope we could accommodate each other.  There is no smooth progression of upward mobility. 

If I were to live in a perfect world, I would obtain my dream job at an early age, pay off my college loans, rapidly accumulate enough money for a house, and then land the girl of my dreams so we could travel the world together.  The girl, of course, would have her life completely figured out by the time she met me.  Together, we would be 100% prepared to drop everything we were doing to merge into a new life. 

Nobody has that kind of luck. 

We come up with vague plans and lavish wishes, and we make peace with how far we’ve veered from our original course.  Most of us will inhabit futures we never imagined.  We figure everything out until someone new enters the equation and shakes everything up.  Priorities become entangled, and possible futures are thrown out the window as new expectations form.  When you’re at the beginning of your journey, it’s difficult to know with any certainty where you will end up.  I never expected to work on a cruise ship in Hawaii, and I never imagined meeting a girl on that very same cruise ship.  There’s no handbook that answers the questions of what happens next.  We can only adapt and hope we can beat the odds.