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Published February 20, 2012

 

THE MEET

I met CaptainCrunch at an Ivy Society happy hour event in the Spring of 2010.  You actually have to prove that you went to an Ivy League school to go to these, so the scene is more pretentious than the Winkelvoss' table at the Hampton's Classic.  And CaptainCrunch came to play.  He was wearing a bow-tie, sweater vest, and blazer - or what I call the Triple Threat.  We chatted for a few minutes and I gave him my business card, with personal email+cell written on the back, and permission to call me sometime.   Despite the wealth of contact information I supplied to him, he opted to get in touch via facebook message.  Because if you're gonna creep someone's internet presence, might as well be up front about it.

THE FIRST DATE

CaptainCrunch invited me to go sailing on his 5-bedroom boat with a small group of friends after work on a Wednesday.  He could have been Charlie Sheen at this point, and I still would have accepted the invite to sail.  Since this was a group event and I've seen the movie Overboard, I thought it would be safest to bring a friend.  So, Riley and I armed ourselves with white wine and Chelsea Market sundries before meeting the group up at the Boat Basin.  The motley crew we would be sailing with on this day included CaptainCrunch, myself, Riley (my safety net), three crewsmen to man the boat, their three dates, and Bruno - a shirtless Hungarian body builder who had beautiful curly hair down to his visible waistline.  Let's set sail!

Everyone contributed potluck style to a beautiful spread.  I was sampling olives, prosciutto, French macaroon, mixed nuts, pears, salted rice crackers, Roquefort bleu, white wine, sparkling wine, rose... all of these things left to battle in my unusually delicate stomach.  That's when I started to feel the tingling at the base of my esophagus.  It was a familiar feeling - I remember it from family car drives between Los Angeles, Big Bear, and Palm Springs going through windy mountain roads.  It was motion sickness.

Riley took me below deck, where my rosy cheeks that were flush from the wine drained to stark white and then filled with a pale green.  It was too late for Dramamine to save me.  I came above board and just as I saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time, I lost my dinner over the starboard side of the boat.  Throwing up is one thing, but when a group of people in the background shout out "Ooooo!  Whooooooa!" and run port side, a person can really feel more leprous than a Frenchman in Texas.  For the rest of the sail, I white knuckled it below deck.  I gave my date a sheepish thank you and he gave me a wide birth with his hug goodnight.

I probably still had some spit up on my cheek or something.

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