Why sailing's better than sex

I HAVE ONLY a couple of weeks to clean up my act. The Blogger people, who allow me to post these columns on the Internet for free, have sent me a warning: “On March 23rd, Blogger will no longer allow certain sexually explicit content.”

Well, okay, thanks for the heads-up. While I still have the chance, I’m going to repeat the second of two sexually explicit columns I’ve posted in the past seven years. You saw the first one in my previous post. This is how the second one goes:

THOSE WHO participate in it regularly know that sailing is wonderful, even better than sex. If you’re not a sailor, you might find that hard to believe, but it’s true. Here’s the proof:

• You don’t have to take your clothes off to sail.

• You never have to hide your sailing magazines.

• It’s perfectly acceptable to sail with a professional.

• There’s nothing in the Ten Commandments that discourages sailing.

• When your partner videotapes you sailing, you don’t have to worry that it will show up on the Internet.

• Your sailing partner won’t quiz you about people you sailed with before you were married. Or after.

• It’s quite OK to sail with a perfect stranger.

• When you meet a good-looking sailor in a bar, you needn’t feel guilty about imagining the two of you sailing together.

• There’s no danger that if you sail by yourself you’ll grow hair on your palms and/or go blind.

• You can have a sailing calendar at work without precipitating a sexual harassment suit.

• There are no known sailing-transmitted diseases.

• Sailing never made anyone pregnant.

• When your sailing partner insists upon your bringing protection, any old anorak will do.

• Nobody expects you to sail with one partner for the rest of your life.

• Extra-marital sailing is not grounds for divorce.

• You never have to wonder next morning if your sailing partner still loves you after a one-night sail.

• It isn’t considered kinky to sail with three or four people at a time.

• Nobody slaps your face if you ask: “Do you sail?”

• Your sailing partner will never say, “Not again! We just sailed this morning, for goodness’ sake! Is that all you ever think about?”

Today’s Thought

No office anywhere on earth is so puritanical, impeccable, elegant, sterile or incorruptible as to not contain the yeast for at least one affair, probably more. You can say it couldn’t happen here, but just let a yeast raiser into the place and the first thing you know—bread!

— Helen Gurley-Brown, Sex and the Office

Tailpiece

A small-town vicar was asked to lecture the local young girls’ club on Christianity and Sex. But because his wife was very strait-laced, he told her he was going to lecture on sailing.

A few days later, the vicar’s wife met one of the girls in the street. The girl said the vicar’s lecture had been very interesting and informative.

“Huh,” the vicar’s wife snorted, “I can’t imagine what he knows about it. He’s only done it twice. The first time he got sick. The second time his hat blew off.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

 

Boat porn -- a quick reprise

 

OH, WOE IS ME! The Blogger people who host my blog have announced that they are about to clamp down on adult material. No more porn, they say. If you want to talk dirty, go elsewhere. Well, as a proponent of free speech and the First Amendment and all that, I find it incumbent upon me to give you the chance to appreciate high-class boat porn before it's too late, before they censor all talk of grease nipples and sweet buttock lines and dirty bottoms and stuff. 

Therefore, before Blogger pulls the plug, I'm going to repeat some adult content from past columns of mine so you can copy it and hug it to your chest (or something) in times of need. Here's the first one: 

THIS BEING A FAMILY COLUMN, we do not often talk openly about sex on small boats. Regrettably, this subject is also much neglected by the yachting media in general. It was obviously also neglected by yacht designers in the past. Aboard those narrow-gutted, full-keeled little cruisers there was never room to swing even half a cat, never mind roger a woman. The priority in those days was to make boats efficient at sailing, rather then reproducing the human race. Imagine that.

Nevertheless, to get back to the original point, if we intend to live in a democracy that defends our constitutional right to free speech and plentiful sex, then sex on small boats needs to be discussed with openness, frankness, and dignity. If the kids are offended, just send them off in the dinghy to play on the beach somewhere until we’re through.

It is perhaps not irrelevant to this discussion that the latest revision of Lin and Larry Pardey’s long-running book, The Capable Cruiser, shows Lin topless on the dust-jacket cover. She is perched on the main boom at the mast, pointing to something on the horizon, dressed only in a long wrap-around skirt, the kind known as a Polynesian pareu. I have noticed that Lin is not averse to telling people how much she enjoys sex aboard their small motorless cruiser, Taleisen. (Incidentally, the picture above is not of Lin Pardey but of a young woman in Rimatara, French Polynesia, in 1887. She is wearing a pareu.)

It’s all very well for the Pardeys, of course. They don’t have any kids. How do couples with kids manage on a small boat, I wonder, the kind that doesn’t have a double stateroom aft. You can’t send them off in the dinghy every time you feel the urge.

Traditionally, and in the absence of passion-killing ankle-biters, the V-berth was the passion pit. But most V-berths on small yachts are difficult to get into. You have to back in and fold yourself in half like a pocket knife. By the time you’ve got your limbs sorted out you’ve sprained two sacroiliac tendons, you’re exhausted, and the last thing on your mind is a bit of nookies. When people who live on small boats talk about safe sex, it’s not disease they’re thinking of, it’s broken bones, pulled muscles, and strained backs.

I suppose that if you’ve ever made love in the back of a car, you’ll probably find a V-berth roomy enough. Maybe. I’m not sure. To tell you the truth, I grew up in a country where cars were small. Back seats of cars had room only for a large grocery bag; so I have never had the pleasure, if it is a pleasure. I now do have a car with a large back seat, but I’m not as flexible as I used to be and my bones are more brittle. I can’t do the athletic contortions that I’m told are necessary. So I guess I’ll never know.

When I was much younger and more flexible I fantasized about sex with those lascivious blonde Swedish girls who (rumor had it) were always cunningly letting themselves be chased through the woods by randy young men waving birch branches. Coincidentally, a male friend with similar dreams bought a 17-foot dinghy in England. It had a small cabin on it. So I met him over there, and we set sail for the woods of Sweden via the English Channel and the continental canals.

But, alas, because of too much non-sexual dallying on the way, it took us three months to get from France to Holland, and the onset of winter drove us back to England, broke and very frustrated. We never did pause to wonder where we would make love if we actually caught one of those lovely Swedish nymphs. There wasn’t room on our boat for the birch branches, never mind the nymphs.

On really small boats you have to do it standing up with your head out of the hatch. In a crowded anchorage, that means you have to assume a look of calm nonchalance while you ostensibly scan the horizon for signs of storm clouds or something. In the interests of maintaining this little deception, you should not scream or roll your eyeballs too far back in your head. Other nearby sailors, the crafty devils, are very quick to notice things like that and make their own deductions.

In these modern times, while the hoi polloi are concentrating on safer sex, small-boat sailors are still searching for better sex. It’s a sad reflection on the state of yacht design. The naval architects have failed us. Maybe WE should go ashore in the dinghy, find some friendly bushes, and strand the kids on the boat while we fumble for the solution.

Today’s Thought
Sex, a great and mysterious motive force in human life, has indisputably been a subject of absorbing interest to mankind through the ages.
— William J. Brennan, Associate Justice, U.S. Supreme Court, 24 Jun 57

Tailpiece
“Sorry lady, bad news. I just ran over one of your roosters in the road out there. I feel real bad about it and I’d like to replace him.”

“Well sure, just as you wish, mister. You’ll find the henhouse next to the barn.”

Sailing is better than you-know-what

IS THERE A BETTER FEELING in the world than sailing?

Sex, did somebody say? No, no, no. It just doesn’t compare. I really shouldn’t have to convince you, but here are 15 good reasons why sailing is better than sex:

1. You never have to hide your sailing magazines.

2. It’s perfectly acceptable to sail with a professional.

3. There’s nothing in the Ten Commandments that discourages sailing with anybody.

4. When your partner makes a video of you sailing, you don’t have to worry that it will show up on the internet.

5. Your sailing partner won’t quiz you about people you sailed with before you were married. Or after.

6. It’s quite OK to sail with a perfect stranger.

7. When you meet a really good sailor in a bar, you needn’t feel guilty about imagining the two of you sailing together.

8. There’s no danger whatsoever that if you sail by yourself you’ll grow hair on your palms or go blind.

9. You can have a sailing calendar at work without precipitating a sexual harassment suit.

10. There are no known sailing-transmitted diseases.

11. When your sailing partner advises you to bring protection, any old anorak will do.

12. Nobody expects you to sail with one partner for the rest of your life.

13. You never have to wonder next morning if your sailing partner still loves you after a one-night sail.

14. Nobody slaps your face if you ask: “Do you sail?”

15. Your sailing partner will never say, “Not again! We just sailed last week, for goodness’ sake! Is that all you ever think about?”

Today’s Thought

Sex, a great and mysterious motive force inhuman life, has indisputably been a subject of absorbing interest to mankind throughout the ages.

— William J. Brennan, Associate Justice, US Supreme Court, 24 Jun 57

Tailpiece
A small-town vicar was asked to lecture the local young girls’ club on Christianity and Sex. But because his wife was very strait-laced, he told her he was going to lecture on sailing.
A few days later the vicar’s wife met one of the girls in the street. She said the vicar’s lecture had been very interesting and informative.
“Huh,” the vicar’s wife snorted, “I can’t imagine what he knows about it. He’s only done it twice. The first time he got sick. The second time his hat blew off.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

Sex on small boats

THIS BEING A FAMILY COLUMN, we do not often talk openly about sex on small boats. Regrettably, this subject is also much neglected by the yachting media in general. It was obviously also neglected by yacht designers in the past. Aboard those narrow-gutted, full-keeled little cruisers there was never room to swing even half a cat, never mind roger a woman. The priority in those days was to make boats efficient at sailing, rather then reproducing the human race. Imagine that.

Nevertheless, to get back to the original point, if we intend to live in a democracy that defends our constitutional right to free speech and plentiful sex, then sex on small boats needs to be discussed with openness, frankness, and dignity. If the kids are offended, just send them off in the dinghy to play on the beach somewhere until we’re through.

It is perhaps not irrelevant to this discussion that the latest revision of Lin and Larry Pardey’s long-running book, The Capable Cruiser, shows Lin topless on the dust-jacket cover. She is perched on the main boom at the mast, pointing to something on the horizon, dressed only in a long wrap-around skirt, the kind known as a Polynesian pareu. I have noticed that Lin is not averse to telling people how much she enjoys sex aboard their small motorless cruiser, Taleisen. (Incidentally, the picture above is not of Lin Pardey but of a young woman in Rimatara, French Polynesia, in 1887. She is wearing a pareu.)

It’s all very well for the Pardeys, of course. They don’t have any kids. How do couples with kids manage on a small boat, I wonder, the kind that doesn’t have a double stateroom aft. You can’t send them off in the dinghy every time you feel the urge.

Traditionally, and in the absence of passion-killing ankle-biters, the V-berth was the passion pit. But most V-berths on small yachts are difficult to get into. You have to back in and fold yourself in half like a pocket knife. By the time you’ve got your limbs sorted out you’ve sprained two sacroiliac tendons, you’re exhausted, and the last thing on your mind is a bit of nookies. When people who live on small boats talk about safe sex, it’s not disease they’re thinking of, it’s broken bones, pulled muscles, and strained backs.

I suppose that if you’ve ever made love in the back of a car, you’ll probably find a V-berth roomy enough. Maybe. I’m not sure. To tell you the truth, I grew up in a country where the back seat of a car had room only for a large grocery bag, so I have never had the pleasure, if it is a pleasure. I now do have a car with a large back seat, but I’m not as flexible as I used to be and my bones are more brittle. I can’t do the athletic contortions that I’m told are necessary. So I guess I’ll never know.

When I was much younger and more flexible I fantasized about sex with those lascivious blonde Swedish girls who (rumor had it) were always cunningly letting themselves be chased through the woods by randy young men waving birch branches. Coincidentally, a male friend with similar dreams bought a 17-foot dinghy in England. It had a small cabin on it. So I met him over there, and we set sail for the woods of Sweden via the English Channel and the continental canals.

But, alas, because of too much non-sexual dallying on the way, it took us three months to get from France to Holland, and the onset of winter drove us back to England, broke and very frustrated. We never did pause to wonder where we would make love if we actually caught one of those lovely Swedish nymphs. There wasn’t room on our boat for the birch branches, never mind the nymphs.

On really small boats you have to do it standing up with your head out of the hatch. In a crowded anchorage, that means you have to assume a look of calm nonchalance while you ostensibly scan the horizon for signs of storm clouds or something. In the interests of maintaining this little deception, you should not scream or roll your eyeballs too far back in your head. Other nearby sailors, the crafty devils, are very quick to notice things like that and make their own deductions.

In these modern times, while the hoi polloi are concentrating on safer sex, small-boat sailors are still searching for better sex. It’s a sad reflection on the state of yacht design. The naval architects have failed us. Maybe WE should go ashore in the dinghy, find some friendly bushes, and strand the kids on the boat while we fumble for the solution.

Today’s Thought
Sex, a great and mysterious motive force in human life, has indisputably been a subject of absorbing interest to mankind through the ages.
— William J. Brennan, Associate Justice, U.S. Supreme Court, 24 Jun 57

Tailpiece
“Sorry lady, bad news. I just ran over one of your roosters in the road out there. I feel real bad about it and I’d like to replace him.”

“Well sure, just as you wish, mister. You’ll find the henhouse next to the barn.”

Better than sex

THOSE WHO participate in it regularly know that sailing is wonderful, even better than sex. If you’re not a sailor, you might find that hard to believe, but it’s true. Here’s the proof:

• You never have to hide your Sailing magazines.

• It’s perfectly acceptable to Sail with a professional.

• There’s nothing in the Ten Commandments that discourages Sailing.

• When your partner videotapes you Sailing, you don’t have to worry that it will show up on the Internet.

• Your Sailing partner won’t quiz you about people you Sailed with before you were married. Or after.

• It’s quite OK to Sail with a perfect stranger.

• When you meet a really good Sailor in a bar, you needn’t feel guilty about imagining the two of you Sailing together.

• There’s no danger whatsoever that if you Sail by yourself you’ll grow hair on your palms or go blind.

• You can have a Sailing calendar at work without precipitating a sexual harassment suit.

• There are no known Sailing-transmitted diseases.

• When your Sailing partner insists you bring protection, any old anorak will do.

• Nobody expects you to Sail with one partner for the rest of your life.

• You never have to wonder next morning if your Sailing partner still loves you after a one-night Sail.

• Nobody slaps your face if you ask: “Do you Sail?”

• Your Sailing partner will never say, “Not again! We just Sailed last week, for goodness’ sake! Is that all you ever think about?”

* * *

Tailpiece

A small-town vicar was asked to lecture the local young girls’ club on Christianity and Sex. But because his wife was very strait-laced, he told her he was going to lecture on sailing.

A few days later the vicar’s wife met one of the girls in the street. She said the vicar’s lecture had been very interesting and informative.

“Huh,” the vicar’s wife snorted, “I can’t imagine what he knows about it. He’s only done it twice. The first time he got sick. The second time his hat blew off.”

* * *