One would think while I was aboard this cruise ship, the vessel circling the tropical recesses of international waters, I would be able to finally find some peace. The view is glorious, the smell of the ocean is salty and scintillating, and my private cabin is expansive and comfortable. However, despite all this I very quickly have found out one thing that has me on edge.
I am the only male aboard this ship.
It was apparently a booking error that I ended up on the giant cruise ship called the Aphrodite. This particular boat carries only women. Not just the passengers but the crew as well. Bizarre as this is to me, what's worse is that once the ship's captain realized the error she gave a mischievous, almost demented grin and said with a shrug, "Oh well, welcome aboard."
Since then I have gone out of my way to keep myself hidden from the majority of the passengers and crew. There is a reason for this, as I am a middle-aged virgin and have avoided all pathways to intimacy with women my entire life. I can't help but both despise and be awkward around the opposite sex. No females have been kind to me my whole existence, why should I do anything but ignore them now?
However, it is impossible on the cruise ship Aphrodite to completely avoid or evade what is easily at least hundreds of women on the vessel. Even as I enter the ship's opulent bar and lounge--my cautious stride obvious to any and all who look on--I see that every single employee is a woman. Even the band playing smooth, melodic jazz are all female. I need a drink. I'll not let this flagrant display of feminity and liberated womanhood stop me from enjoying what was meant to be a relaxing aside to my otherwise miserable life. Bustling about are waitresses and passengers, and there is a distinct giggling and cooing that comes with women in social hubs I find irritating.
"What can I get you, m--oh, I mean, sir! Well isn't that just something," says the waitress, stunned that there is a man on board the ship.