In the summer of 2024, I went to Edinburgh for the annual Fringe festival.
I was expecting to find comedy, theater, and music … not a date with a random street musician, which turned into a weekend in Paris, which turned into … a 12-day Mediterranean cruise.
After only 2 dates, I agreed to go on a cruise with a man I’d only just met
I was watching an act perform on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile when I realized I’d seen the same duo busking in Dublin a few years prior.
Something about the guitarist really caught my eye, and the coincidence provided a perfect excuse to go talk to him.
A short conversation later, I learned he was visiting Paris (my home) in three weeks; we joked that maybe we could see each other there. At least, I thought we were joking. Probably.
We met for our first date two days later, and he told me he performed as a musician on a cruise ship. He hinted that perhaps I could join him on an upcoming voyage — a thrilling idea, but this time, I definitely thought he was joking.
The voyage in question would be a whopping 12 days long, and we’d be sharing his little cabin for the duration. And we had, so far, spent mere hours together. We left things at “let’s see how Paris goes.”
Because, as it turned out, we weren’t joking about Paris after all — our second date in my city spanned a couple of days. He wasn’t joking about the cruise either.
The next time we met was a month later, in Portsmouth, ready to board a ship for almost two weeks together at sea exploring the Mediterranean.
I had a great feeling about him, but it was the wildest thing I’d ever done. I was aware it was probably going to be either the most sweepingly romantic experience of my life or a spectacular disaster.
The cruise was a surreal experience, and sparks were flying
As someone who sleeps almost exclusively in budget hostels when traveling, I was blown away by my first cruise.
The ship was beautiful, easily the most luxurious accommodation I’d ever stayed in. In those 12 days, I watched phenomenal live entertainment, worked out overlooking the ocean every morning (okay, most mornings), ate like a queen, and explored exciting new cities and islands.
The ship was big and interesting enough that I could’ve easily taken some space from my cabin mate as needed, but I found I didn’t need to.
My positive instinct about the musician in Edinburgh had been overwhelmingly accurate, and the trip, this wild-cruise-ship-madness of a date, was pure magic.
There was some delicate navigation (no sailing puns intended) on both sides as we learned our preferences, boundaries, and how each other operated day-to-day.
Twelve days together in a tiny room at sea could test an established couple, never mind a pair of near-strangers. However, we managed admirably. (That pun might have been intended.)
We talked incessantly, watched countless sunsets on deck while his arms were wrapped around me à la Jack and Rose, and slow-danced in the lamplit rain around a deserted plaza in Lisbon.
The romance was off the charts — but what struck me most was the laughter. I was literally brought to tears (of amusement) almost every single day we spent together. I’d never smiled so much in my life.
I had no idea what would come next, but I’m glad I took the risk
Even so, I didn’t know where we stood by the time we were parting ways: Was this a surreal one-off romantic adventure or one date of many more to come?
My head was full of questions as disembarkation day approached, and I couldn’t tell if my shy attempts to address them were falling short because he was being purposefully evasive … or perhaps I was being too vague.
Happily, it was the latter. I visited him in his hometown six weeks later, and then we celebrated an early Christmas together on a Caribbean cruise.
It’s been about 18 months, and the adventure — as well as the romance — is still going strong.
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