Confessions of a Moldy-Aired, Blog-Happy Boat Guy
Okay readers, confession time: I messed up. Again. (I know—try to hide your shock.)
Let’s be real. Ever just want to be yourself—loud laugh, quirks, wine buzz and all—but feel like you’ve got to shrink down just so the person you’re with doesn’t flip out over your latest social media post or your weird affection for purple wigs? Yeah. Been there.
So here I am, a 58-year-old retired widower with a boat named Ohana, trying to live my best “salty-dog-in-a-hammock” life—and every woman I date seems to think I need a social media nanny.
Newsflash: I blog. I post. I write about awkward dates, clogged toilets, and moldy showers. It’s who I am. It’s how I stay sane. I like to be goofy, and yeah—sometimes I post stuff that’s borderline inappropriate. If that offends whoever I’m with, she probably won’t like how I dance either.
Porch Swings & People Watching
Let me tell you a story…
Once upon a party, my late wife Donna got very enthusiastic about her hosting duties. So enthusiastic, in fact, she passed out on the front porch swing just as the party was getting started. I didn’t shame her or give her crap for it. I helped her to bed (after some spirited porch-swing negotiations) and told our guests she had a headache.
Because that’s what you do when you love someone—you protect them and accept them for who they are, even when they’re being delightfully ridiculous. It’s what makes them who they are. And usually, it’s part of why you love them in the first place.
I want someone who does that for me. Who reads my blog and IG/FB posts and says, “That’s just Dave being Dave.” Who doesn’t make me delete a post just because it doesn’t fit her curated brand of humor. Who does not think about how it reflects on them!
The Chinese Mystery Date
Ah yes, the stunning woman from Washington, D.C. Gorgeous. Smart. Absolutely not the barefoot-on-a-boat type. She didn’t even pretend. We both knew we were wrong for each other when she told me she hated being outdoors unless there was a valet. (Actual quote.)
Weeks after we’d amicably gone our separate ways, she finally decided to read my blog. And girl—was she mad. Apparently, reposting her already-public pictures (with zero malice, mind you) was some form of digital betrayal. Meanwhile, I’d invited her to read my blog from day one.
It was like yelling at the waiter after eating the cake because it had calories.
Message in the Mess
Now let’s pause for a second and reflect, shall we?
As most of you know, my Sunday ritual is going to Mass and letting the readings sink in while I work through what’s going on in my life. Now that I’m back home, I can get back to that peaceful rhythm—where the fog clears a little and the big picture comes back into focus.
Today’s Gospel (Luke 24:35–48) has Jesus showing up to the disciples and saying, “Peace be with you,” while they’re still freaking out, thinking he’s a ghost. It’s a solid reminder that sometimes, we don’t see what’s right in front of us—because we’re too busy being afraid, angry, or wrapped up in our own stories.
Maybe we all just need to calm the heck down, extend some grace, and let people be who they are—even if that person blogs about boat mold and has a tendency to overshare.
Lisa the Lighthouse
You know who’s been helping me stay grounded? “Old Lisa.” (Maybe soon just “Lisa” again, since I’ve heard next to nothing from what was looking to be “Ohana Lisa.”)
She’s reminded me to stop hunting so hard for the “next first mate,” and instead just live this crazy, boaty, sun-soaked life I always dreamed of—one Donna would have loved.
Ohana needs me. And maybe I need her, too—more than I need someone side-eyeing my goofy Facebook posts.
Boat Babble: Home Projects Edition
I’m finally back in Piney Narrows, turning Ohana into MY boat—not the ghost of the ex’s version.
This weekend’s highlights included:
De-molding the port shower (now officially my wetsuit closet)
Evicting the leftover party junk from the “lifeguard cabin”
Installing my new bunk-topper (shoutout to Joe!)
Rotating toppers between cabins like a giant game of mattress Tetris
Unclogging the starboard head. (Say a prayer.)
Removing the old solar panels and all the wiring
Investigating why the chain counter isn’t counting (probably a rusted magnet or sensor)
And yes—the new solar install is underway! The crew is also removing the old WiFi pole and SSB radio antenna bracket and installing a proper switch inside the davit poles for the lights I mounted to see inside the dink at night. They’re also adding locks to the forward lockers (hello, Key West security!)—the ones housing my batteries and tools.
And yes, I’m selling the old panels and batteries because your boy is thrifty. Sustainable energy and a little beer money? Don’t mind if I do.
Final Thought: Peace Like a Porch Swing
At the end of the day, all I really want is someone who doesn’t mind a guy who blogs, tells awkward truths, and sometimes overuses ellipses.
If you can roll with me (and maybe roll up your sleeves to unclog a head once in a while), then girl—grab a rum punch and climb aboard.
If not? That’s okay too. I’m finally okay.
Because peace starts with letting go—and sometimes, that’s the real resurrection.
