It's Valentine's day, and signs of it abound all over the ship. Valentine's cards taped to cabin doors. Flowers delivered hither and thither. Heart-shaped red balloons floating about. Such a cute crew!

I vaguely remember participating in Valentine's day rituals. Buying chocolates. Preparing for a special evening...

It's hard to imagine that sort of thing now. Not that I haven't had the opportunity to investigate the possibility of romantic encounters. There are opportunities, even for me, but I'm so out of practice and generally confused that I doubt anything will come of them.

For example, a few weeks ago, just before Meta and Paul came to visit, I was meditating out on deck 5 aft (a daily habit of mine) when the pool supervisor, a Romanian woman I'd seen around the ship but hadn't met, joined me. She was very friendly and we talked for awhile. She's quite attractive, especially her eyes. And I'm a sucker for eyes.

I learned that she is 43, probably not unreasonably young for me. At least, I don't think the age difference would raise any eyebrows. Whether my age of 55 is too old for her or not, I don't know. Anyway, I confess I was thinking along these lines as we continued the pleasant conversation.

After a while she had to return to work and I was alone again, looking out over the sea and wondering if anything had 'happened'. Had she made an overture? Sometimes I really think I'm a complete idiot when it comes to these things.

The next time I saw her was back on deck 5 aft again. She was sitting alone. What would you do? Would you go up and say hi, and ask to join her? Not me. I didn't want to presume anything, so I avoided her.

This happened a couple more times, and I suspect she might now be wondering what she had done to elicit this cold response from me (not that I knew myself).

I talked to her briefly on the I-95* near the end of Paul and Meta's visit and she said it was too bad she didn't know earlier they were here – she could have gotten them some freebies. Then she said, “That's why we should be communicating.”

An invitation to get to know her better? Probably. And a nice, friendly one, too.

I'm not looking for a relationship, or female companionship, or someone to have a little fling with. There are several reasons for this. For one thing, male/female stuff can get complicated. Life is simple for me now, and I like it that way. For another, I'm damaged goods – medicated, prosthetically altered, beset by one minor affliction after another. I consider myself a rather poor long-term investment, and I'm not making plans for the future. Finally, I'm boring and not much fun since I've stopped drinking (assuming I ever was much fun).

Furthermore, I don't know how to be or act around women anymore. The other night I sat down for dinner at a table where there were a couple of good-looking chicks (and attendant musicians, of course). I swore to myself that this time I'd be witty and charming, like I used to be in the old days. Just for practice, no other reason.

As I was sitting down the girl next to me took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it to the edge of her plate near a piece of roast chicken. I sensed my brand of wit and charm was going to be wasted here. So I just sat there, quiet and dull, eating my dinner as the conversation fluttered meaninglessly around the table.

Boring, boring, boring old Ricardo.

Well, let's see what happens. I'll make an effort to repair things with my potential Romanian friend. A good start might be to find out what her name is!

I've mentioned before that I've quite liked the Romanians I've met on the ship - the philosophically-inclined doctor who said 'The bird dies singing its own song', and who prescribed fasting as a treatment for an ailing singer, and the bassist in the show band who also happens to be a dentist.

I have a feeling I'd like her, too. If I'd let myself.

***

BLOG CONTEST!

Announcing the first Bass Player at Sea Blog contest! Test your powers of intuition! Detect the lie!

Somewhere within the next five (5) entries (not including this one) there will be a bald-faced lie, and it is your job to uncover it. So far, everything I've written has been ABSOLUTELY TRUE, with the exception of the description of the mechanic with the handlebar mustache who I said worked on the engine of the Northwest Airlines jet in Detroit (one of the very first entries). That wasn't really true. He didn't have a handlebar mustache.

That was the only out and out lie so far.

But that's about to change. From now on, one in every five entries will contain a lie for you to uncover.

So, what's the prize, you ask?

How about a week-long cruise in the sunny Caribbean? Well, that would be nice, I'm sure, but that's not it. Are you crazy? As if I could afford that!

No, the prize is the smug sense of self-satisfaction you'll feel when you find me out.

So. Are you up to the challenge?

Well, let's go, then! Simply respond to the post that you think contains the lie with, “You LIE, Ricardo!” followed by a description of the lie, and what gave me away. Who knows? Maybe YOU'LL be a lucky winner!

No more than one entry per person per five posts, please (so wait until you've read all of the next five posts before you make up your mind).

Good luck!