Boat Life – A Relationship Test

relationship columnist writer megan waldrep

I Want To Miss You

One morning in the Santa Cruz marina, Jason made our favorite breakfast of fried eggs, sautéed kale, and sprouted wheat toast with fresh ground coffee.

We took our seats in the cockpit of our thirty-four-foot sailboat, ready to dig in.

The sun was shining and the temperature was rising to the mid-seventies and I was finally able to wear less than four layers of clothing to keep warm.

My happy place.

After a quick blessing, Jason began wolfing down his food like he was in a pie eating contest.

I told him to slow down, to savor the food instead of swallowing it whole.

(I believe I even used the word, “Despacito.”)

He paused, choosing his words carefully, and said,

“Love, it really gets on my nerves when you make comments like that,” he said.

“The same way it gets on your nerves when I tell you to calm down.”

I saw his point, apologized, then we vowed to mind our sides of the street.

We ate in silence for the next few minutes.

But after a couple of bites I looked at Jason, cocked my head to the side and thought, As much as I love you, I could really miss you right now.

Back In The Day

It made me think back to the days when the distance of our relationship was California to Washington – over twelve hundred miles instead of just thirty-four feet.

About nine months into our long-distance relationship, I had an honest conversation about how sexually frustrating his absence can be.

Not only did he live two states away – our relationship held together by long weekend visits and modern day technology – but he was also about to leave for Alaska to commercial fish salmon for three months.

Rural Alaska. Where cell phone service is little to nonexistent.

“I know fishing is your livelihood and I respect that,” I said.

“But I’m a woman with needs! It’s not easy for me.”

He nodded, slowly registering what I said, then grabbed his phone and began to Google.

“Hey Lover,” he said. “Look what I found.”

I looked over at his screen and something called “Clone-A-Willy” stared back at me.

Basically, it’s a make your own dildo kit that allows you to make an exact replica of your partner’s…penis.

It even comes with a vibrator to take it to the next level.

Thinking it would be a fun project for us, and knowing it could make my nights go by a little easier, we headed to an adult store to find one.

Hours later, with a flesh-colored molding kit in hand, we drove back to my house to start the experiment.

Once inside, I opened the tube-shaped package and dumped the contents on my bed.

Out popped a thermometer, silicone mix, liquid rubber, a vibrator and instructions which were pretty long and very specific.

We looked at each other suddenly realizing it was more involved than we thought.

“Ok, babe,” I said.

“Drop your drawers.”

I’ll spare you the details but there was a lot of mixing and measuring and cooling to the right temperatures all the while entertaining him so we could actually set the mold correctly.

The whole process was far from sexy and it ended up being an uncoordinated, ridiculous mess.

Our conversation went something like this:



“Ok, stick it in now. I said NOW! Hurry up!”

“Ok, ok, geez. Ow, watch my balls!”

“Sorry, just put it in the hole! We’re running out of time!”

“It’s molding too fast! I can’t get it in!”

“What? Aw, dammit!”

Foreplay quickly dissipated and so did my hopes for a summer romance with his silicone twin.

We looked online to figure out what went wrong and according to the website I did not, “allow adequate time for the thermometer to get an accurate reading.”


With the fishing season right around the corner, we ran out of time to buy more silicon to try again.

Which meant, the only thing I had to look forward to that summer was the possibility of self-induced Carpal Tunnel.

But I guess it wasn’t a total loss.

We did have a good laugh over it.

I still laugh about it to this day.  

Back In The Santa Cruz Marina

“What are you smiling about?” Jason said, snapping me out of the daydream.

I looked at him and smiled.

“Nothing. I just think I need a little time to myself today.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Without saying more, we kissed a truce, washed the dishes, then set off on our own separate adventures for the day.

Later, we met up for dinner and a movie before heading back to our little floating home.

Sometimes you need time apart in order to function as a whole again.

What are your thoughts? Can you relate to needing space from a loved one?We’d love to know! Please share in the comments below!

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