Days 145-151: Dating in Whistler

As hard as I try to stay busy, I still get lonely. I was on Tinder and from time to time would match with someone. I almost never message first because I don’t want to get stuck in another relationship where I’m the one doing all of the initiating. During the first few weeks in Whistler, I didn’t have much luck with men.

Keven

I matched with Keven shortly after I arrived in Whistler. He was engaging in his messages and his pictures made him out to be quite a character. He looked like a free spirit who enjoyed festivals and he had a nice smile. He was 30 years old and had black curly hair that was just past his shoulders. He was originally from Portugal, but grew up in Toronto.

He was living in a bus in Squamish and one night he said he’d love to come over and tell me about his stories and bus life. I figured why not? so I let him come over. It was late at night and I told him if he wasn’t who he said he was, I wouldn’t let him in the condo complex. It was a glass door, so I could verify.

Keven was standing outside of the glass door in a black hoodie (with the hood up) and black jeans, which made him look mysterious. He appeared to be who he said he was, so I allowed him inside. He gave me a hug and we sat down to talk.

Keven told me that when he was 20 years old, he moved to Mexico, near Playa Del Carmen. He went with his brother who was six years older than him. They bought an old van and converted it to a home. To make money over the next year, they played music on a jug to American tourists and made a lot of money. In an attempt to get him back to canada, his parents paid for him to go to Cuba with them. He decided he liked having running water again, so he moved north.

Keven bought a small school bus in Oregon and converted it so he could live inside. When marijuana was illegal, he worked in the fields in northern California picking it. He made $20,000 in six to eight weeks, working 12 hour days. He lived off of the money for the rest of the year. He said, “Now that it’s legal, you can only make about half of that.”

Growing up without a lot of money, Keven’s parents always told him not to pay rent. He took that literally and lived in the bus for seven years. Three years ago, he moved to Squamish and actually rented a house with some friends for two of those years, but had recently moved back into his bus. Keven described the bus as having an outdoor shower, a wood stove, and a full kitchen. He had everything he needed. For work, he did housing construction with his brother.

Keven was interesting, but not as interesting as he was trying to be. After just over an hour talking, Keven kissed me and we briefly made out. I didn’t enjoy it because there wasn’t chemistry and I wasn’t that attracted to him. I sort of pulled away at one point and when he left, he hugged me and kissed my cheek. I didn’t mean to, but I flinched and pulled away when he went in for the kiss. He left saying, “I’ll call you. You can come see my bus.” I sort of wanted to see his bus, so I said sure.

A couple of days later, he unmatched with me on Tinder. It was fine because I didn’t really like him anyway. But it still hurt. There’s a feeling of rejection when someone just unmatches and disappears forever. It hurt my feelings. Keven made me realize that I can’t just casually make out with a guy. I tried, but if I’m not interested in the whole package, I can’t be attracted physically.

Andrew

Andrew and I matched about two weeks after I arrived in Whistler. He was 34, very tall (6’6”), muscular, and had shoulder-length blonde wavy hair. Andrew was a firefighter and a paramedic. He grew up in Ontario, but has lived on and off in Whistler since 2003.

When Andrew first messaged me, I was at the Cornucopia that was going on at the conference center. The large conference room had a lot of booths with vendors sampling their wines. There were also some appetizers. When I arrived, I noticed groups of friends dressed for a nice night out as they tried different wines and beers. I felt awkward being there alone and drank my samples way too fast. I felt a little less alone when Andrew messaged me.

Afterwards, I went to a bar and continued to message him. He said he had a long work day and had work early the next morning, so couldn’t meet me that night. But, he could hang out the next evening. We continued to message, getting to know each other.

This trend would continue over and over with Andrew. He’d message saying he just got home from work at 7:00 pm and needed to work out and get dinner and he’d see how he felt later. Then later would come and he’d be too tired to meet me for a drink. He’d always mentioned he “could come over” though. After the Keven incident, I did not want someone coming over again.

I was feeling rejected one night when we were supposed to meet up, but he bailed yet again. I had done my hair and makeup so I went out drinking alone. He messaged me saying he wasn’t trying to reject me, but he was just tired. I never understood why he didn’t just ask me to dinner, instead of always saying he’d see how he felt after dinner. I realized he just wanted to come over and hook up and I wasn’t going to do that. So, I kept insisting he meet me in public. Andrew told me he’d take me for a walk on his next day off, which was in a couple of days.

The day came and Andrew said he was on-call, so he couldn’t go for a walk. He did offer to come over, however, as long as he was close to his car because he “might need to run out at a moments notice.” I declined his offer and felt very frustrated. He left for Hawaii for two weeks shortly after, and wouldn’t return until I was supposed to leave. I ended up staying in Whistler for longer than I originally planned, but I didn’t bother telling Andrew I’d still be around when he got back. I was tired of the games and it was pretty clear that he was only interested in one thing.

Adam

I matched with Adam in September when I first went to Whistler and I met him twice after his band was finished playing some shows. We had continued to message every now and then. When I got back to Whistler on November 1st, he was in Florida with his parents for a few weeks. In mid-November, he returned and we matched again, but this time on Bumble. For the next few days, we texted and he’d often be flirtatious.

After a few days, I was impatient and asked him when he was going to ask me out. He responded a day later saying he wasn’t into “dating” because he had a few bad relationships. He assured me that he adored our talks though. I was very disappointed. All I wanted was to meet up with him. I guess asking “when are you going to ask me out?” was too much. Perhaps if I had just said he could come over, that would have worked.

A few days later, we messaged again for a bit as friends. Then a week after that, I was walking through the village and saw a sign that mentioned his band was playing that night. I went inside and sat at the bar and ordered a beer. It was crowded, especially with the groupies at the stage dancing. I was surprised when he saw me right away and as he kept singing, he pointed at me. I waved and smiled.

Shortly after, he had a break and came right over and gave me a hug. We chatted for a bit and then he continued the performance. They stopped playing shortly before the bar closed and were cleaning up their equipment. I waited around so I could say goodbye. He saw me waiting and walked over and said, “I have to go home and get some sleep.” I was irritated because I wasn’t expecting to hang out with him. I was saying goodbye, a goodbye that I knew would likely be for good. We hugged and I haven’t spoken with him since.

img_9551

Result

I started to feel very depressed. I constantly felt like I wasn’t good enough for these men. I wasn’t good enough to be taken out for dinner. I wasn’t good enough to be romanced. I wasn’t good enough to date. None of them wanted to put in any effort. The dating scene is awful, no matter where I go. I was starting to believe that I’d be single forever. For the first time, it crossed my mind that I just might never meet someone that I actually like.

On one of the nights, I watched Destination Wedding, a dark romantic comedy. It made me sad that I didn’t have a partner. But these men all made me feel worse than feeling lonely. Maybe being lonely is better than being broken-hearted.

I often hear that expectations are the death of a relationship. While I think that can be true if you have unrealistic expectations, I also think it’s bullshit. I know that I have high expectations of myself, of my friends, of my family, and especially the person I’m involved with romantically. I tried really hard the last year to be carefree and throw expectations out the window.

Holding people to standards and not letting them be themselves, or holding them to expectations that society has placed, is bad. But we should have some expectations. I expect a partner to be honest, to be kind, and generally be a good human being. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Trying to “let go of all expectations” was allowing me to accept poor behavior from Keven and Andrew. It was making me feel like that’s how the world is and I’m the weird one for expecting more.

I was recently talking with a guy about our dating woes on Tinder and I mentioned my experiences. His response was, “Wow, Don’t scare those poor fellas. Actually wanting attention. What’s next, conversation over dinner?” It made me feel better knowing there are men out there who put in work and don’t think it’s unreasonable to have basic expectations.

After experiencing all of this over a month, I decided I was done with men. At least temporarily. I was tired of them making me feel horrible about myself. I was tired of crying myself to sleep. I decided that being alone wasn’t all that bad.  

Post Edited By: Mandy Strider
Thanks for reading! Hit the Like button or leave a comment!

Days 103-104: Feeling Strange

Tracey was in the middle of remodeling her kitchen and the construction guys showed up in the morning. Since she did not have a working kitchen, Tracey and I went to town to eat a delicious breakfast. Hood River is a cute town in a gorge about 45 minutes east of Portland. We took our time enjoying breakfast and then I loaded my car and hit the road.

The first part of the drive was scenic as it climbed up and down the mountains in Oregon. However, once I was past the mountains, the drive was flat and boring. I was trying to make it to Redding, California because my friend who I was staying with in Long Beach asked that I make it there by the following day. It was seven hours of drive time to make it to Redding and I didn’t arrive until late evening.

img_8484

I had a hard time not falling asleep during the long drive. It was strange considering I had just driven thousands of miles and didn’t get tired more than once or twice. But driving to Alaska was exciting and new things were in store everyday. Now, I was going back to what was familiar.

I pulled into my Motel 6 in the dark and when I jerked my hard, plastic suitcase out of the trunk, one of the wheels broke off. The suitcase had been irritating me for months because I had to completely open both sides to get into my suitcase (the zipper was split right in the middle of the case). That made it difficult or impossible to fully open it when I was in small rooms.

I had to carry my suitcase up a flight of stairs and then drag it across the floor to my room. I showered and went to bed. I figured I would get a new bag when I went to Long Beach.

The next morning, I left early because I needed to make it to Long Beach and it would be just over eight hours of drive time. The drive was occasionally beautiful during the first hour or so. But then I hit central California – flat, dry farmland. I saw a lot of billboards displaying information about the water crisis. Most of the signs talked about how the farmers need the water to grow the food, food the entire U.S. eats. According to the OC Register, “California produces 13% of the total cash agricultural receipts for the U.S., it is the sole producer (99% or more) for the following crops: Almonds, Figs, Olives, Peaches, Artichokes, Kiwifruit, Dates, Pomegranates, Raisins, Sweet Rice, Pistachios, Plums, and Walnuts.”

California produces a lot of food. There are a lot of problems with the California water supply. Like laws that go back to the 1800s when things were very different. I remember seeing a documentary about the water rights years ago and they talked with a farmer. He said if he chooses to plant a more drought tolerant food and doesn’t use that much water, the state will limit his water usage going forward, preventing him from growing different crops that might require more water. Because of this, farmers waste water so they won’t be restricted in the future.

There is a great article describing the problems with the California water crisis and the debate over the use for farmers (who use 80% of the water) and environmentalists who want to save the salmon.

In the article, the author, Jeff Pawlak states, “The river diversion debate symbolizes the coastal-rural tension of California politics; highly represented urban liberals versus disenfranchised inland conservatives (I’m generalizing, but it is mostly accurate). This is largely visible when you drive between San Francisco and Los Angeles down Route 5. Once you leave the progressive bubble of San Francisco — dotted by rainbow LBGT flags and Bernie or Hillary bumper stickers — the entire highway is filled with billboards protesting the state government’s “water grabs” or warning of an artificially created dust bowl (or during the 2016 election — Trump-Pence campaign signs). Reduced water diversions may in fact damage their livelihoods, and they are angry about it.”

I appreciate the article because he talks about other ways to help solve the problem: “Unacceptable levels of treated water leak out of California pipes every year (known as non-revenue water) — as much as 10–25% annually. While the farmers and the environmentalists fight about the river water use, this is a problem that is rarely discussed. If we addressed our leak issues, there would be considerably more freshwater available for all uses.”

He concludes the article with, “We cannot simply regulate our way out of a water crisis. California’s water situation demands technological innovation that makes life possible for both the farmers and the fish.”

As I continued driving through the flat, windy central part of the state, I thought about going back to Long Beach. I planned to be there for just over two weeks to take care of doctor appointments and see some friends. Going back made me think about my ex-husband.

Aaron was in denial that our marriage was falling apart, even when we were separated for six months. When I told him I was going to file for divorce, he finally realized the severity of the situation. He cried for the first time in all of the separation. It wasn’t until he was leaving the house, knowing the next time he’d be back would be to sort out who got what, that he broke down. We hugged and I felt so much pain and cried with him. I worried that he wouldn’t be okay and that it was all my fault because I was ending it.

The guilt plagued me. I tried hard to remind myself that the marriage ended because of his lies and ambivalence. Over the next few months, we met over dinners to discuss how things would be divided, how we would file taxes, etc. We were still getting along and in April 2017, I asked him if he planned on dating. The papers were signed and we were just waiting for it to be legal (it takes six months in California). He adamantly told me he had no desire to date – he’d have a puppy before he had a girlfriend. I asked if he planned on going on dating apps and he said no, but he was happy we could talk openly about it.

A month later, Aaron joined Tinder and started dating the first girl he matched with. He lied to me about it, reminding me that it was a good decision to end the marriage. Within two months of dating (three weeks after our divorce was final), he moved in with her. On their one year anniversary, he proposed to her in Spain. It was a strange feeling knowing that he could be so good at convincing me that I was destroying him, making me feel so guilty that he’d never be okay without me, only to be perfectly fine within a few short weeks.

I learned how cruel and deceptive people can be. Everyone told me, “Men just move on quicker.” I disagree with that statement and I hate when people normalize it. It’s not healthy to leave a 12-year relationship, one that you say you don’t want to lose because that person is the love of your life, and within such a short amount of time, fall in love with someone else. To me, that means he doesn’t understand what love is. I know people move on at different speeds, but every expert would agree that you need to heal and grieve when a long-term relationship ends.

Aaron and his new fiancé lived one mile away from me in Lakewood and days before I left, I ran into them at the grocery store. There was hardly anybody there, but Aaron quickly walked away and pretended not to see me. I was in shock and kept walking. We hadn’t talked in a year. It’s such a weird feeling knowing that I spent more than a decade with this person who now pretends not to see me. I don’t mean to sound cynical, but it makes it very hard to trust people or to believe things are more than just temporary.

I worried about how I’d feel staying only a few miles away from where I used to live. I had been traveling for more than three and a half months. I felt different and things in my life were different. I no longer had a place to live or a job. Staying with a friend made me feel like I was still on the road, but going to familiar doctor appointments and seeing friends made things feel like old times.

img_8510img_8512

Once I hit the northern part of Los Angeles, the insane traffic began. It reminded me of one of the reasons I never wanted to live there again. I sat in stop-and-go traffic for two hours to get to Long Beach. I missed my open roads. It was bizarre to be excited to be “home,” but also sad to be back.

Post Edited by: Mandy Strider
Thanks for reading! Hit the Like button or leave a comment!

Day 91: E-Bike Vs. Pedestrian and a Musician

I was regretting my decision to do the 9:00 am bike tour with Ash, my Airbnb host, because I was tired and it was dreary and cold outside. When I left my bedroom, Ash wasn’t around so I drove myself to the meeting place. I met one of Ash’s guides, who said he wasn’t told I was coming, but said he could add me to the tour.

While we waited for a couple to arrive for the tour, I walked over to a nearby restaurant and bought a bottle of water. When I returned, the tour guide said he received a message from Ash saying he moved the 9:00 am tour to 1:00 pm because the other couple asked for it to be pushed back.

I was frustrated because I would have preferred to sleep in and I had just paid for parking. The guide was also frustrated because he wasn’t told earlier. I went back to the Airbnb and went back to bed. My back and neck were still recovering and the extra sleep felt good.

When it was close to 1:00 pm, I walked out of my bedroom and saw Ash getting ready to leave. He asked if I wanted to share a taxi so I agreed. While we waited for the taxi, Ash asked me how my day was yesterday and if I made it to the physiotherapy place. I was confused since we talked all about it the night prior. I said I went there and then went to the spa. He responded, “Oh, great! You went to the spa too?!” He clearly did not remember talking to me when I got home…must be the mushrooms.

Ash and I arrived at the tour meeting place a little early so I grabbed a coffee and a pastry at the restaurant next door.

For the tour, we used electric bikes (e-bikes). I used an e-bike once in Vancouver, but these bikes were much more powerful. You still pedal, but there is a battery pack that assists you on hills and makes pedaling easier. We tested the bikes in the underground garage to make sure we were all comfortable on them.

There were four other people on the tour: two women in their 40s from Montreal, and a couple near retirement age from the UK. It was 47° F and raining. Whistler has a lot of paved bike paths, so we rode through the town on the paths. We were surrounded by huge green pine trees, rode by lakes, and stopped at the Valley of Dreams (a pioneer house from the early days of the town).

The rain poured on us at times, making it hard to see. Thankfully, it let up a bit for part of the ride. Ash told us stories as we arrived to each sight – like a lake where people swim naked and hang out during the summer.

img_7643

Toward the end of the tour, we were riding very fast (about 25 MPH) down the windy path. A group of five tourists was walking and taking up the entire two-lane path. Ash and the two women passed them, which scared the group, who had split into two groups. One of the girls realized her group was now on both the left and right side of the path, forcing us to drive in the middle of them. She was crossing, but decided to stop in the middle and scream…right as I was trying to pass. I slammed on my breaks right as she turned to face me. I couldn’t stop in time and I ran into her, but she was able to grab the handle bars and help stop me. Her friends apologized because they knew she jumped right in the middle at the last second, giving me nowhere to go. Thankfully, we weren’t hurt and I continued on.

The bike tour finished up and Ash offered to buy me a meal since he dropped the ball telling me the tour time changed. The couple from the UK joined us as well. We went to the restaurant where I had gotten a pastry and coffee earlier – Portobellos. We all got the chicken and mushroom pie, which was incredible!

img_7661

Susan and Tony from the UK were awesome. We talked all through the meal and ended up staying to talk afterwards for a couple of hours. Ash didn’t talk much and was on his phone once he finished eating. Then he quickly left. Susan and Tony told me they had signed up for the 9:00 am tour, but received a message that morning from Ash saying he needed to move the tour to 1:00 pm because a guide cancelled on him. Right before we started the tour, he was drinking a beer and asked them if they wanted one. I told them about my experience and we realized that Ash had fibbed because he didn’t want to do two tours.

Susan retired last year after working in home health care. Tony chimed in, “She’ll be able to take care of me when I’m old!” Susan shrugged, “It’s quite different taking care of someone when you’re not getting paid.” Tony hasn’t retired yet and works for the Department of Defense repairing submarines. They have two sons in their 30s who are married with kids.

Susan and Tony have been to Canada a few times. For this trip, they would be there for 25 days, in Vancouver, Vancouver Island, Whistler, and Alberta. They gave me some good tips about Vancouver Island and told me about all of the bears they saw.

I swapped stories with Susan and Tony about crossing borders and police. They told me when they were visiting the US, they were pulled over when driving a rental car. They were scared and didn’t know what to do. Do they get out of the car? Do they wait for the Officier to come to them? They got a speeding ticket and were embarrassed to tell their son, who is a police officer in the UK.

When they went into the US to see Niagara Falls, they were asked to pull over while their car was searched at the border. They ended up just having to pay a travel fee in US dollars, which was a problem since they didn’t have US cash. They used a prepaid card and it worked.

I really enjoyed talking with Susan and Tony. They were friendly, kept me company, and it was fun swapping stories.

I went back to the Airbnb, showered, and rested for a bit. A guy I had been messaging on Tinder for the couple of days asked me how my day was. He said his band was playing at a local bar that night so I said I’d come see him play.

Adam was 37 years old and was from Toronto, but had been living in the area for many years. He messaged me the first night I arrived in Whistler when my back and neck were extremely sore. He was really nice asking how I was doing and telling me about his pulled neck muscles as well.

I took the free bus to the village that Ash told me about. It was a quick ride, but shortly after I boarded, a British girl jumped on and we chatted for a bit. She had just finished a catering event and was hired separately from the caterers to “make sure rich people had wine at all times.” She was excited about the job because she said she was paid for the work of two people ($25 an hour) for a five hour shift where she talked to people for 70% of her time. They let her take home three bottles of expensive wine because the label was ripped (but the cork was still on). She said, “They also didn’t care if I drank on the job.” Maybe Ash’s description of Whistler of being the Wild West was correct.

I arrived at the bar where Adam was playing and ordered a drink. I purposely sat towards the back at a cocktail table. His band was really good and they played cover songs. Adam was the lead singer, had a great voice, and was charismatic on stage. I was nervous and wondered why he was interested. He seemed much cooler than me.

The band was done playing and the bar was still open for about an hour. I figured Adam would message me asking if I was there and where to find me. I always hate the first in-person meeting. Will he be attracted? Will I be attracted? Will there be chemistry?

As soon as the band finished, I looked up from my Long Island Iced Tea and saw Adam running towards my table. We made eye contact and he got a huge smile on his face, came around the table and gave me a hug. He said, “I really want to talk to you, but I have to use the restroom really bad! I’ll be right back!”

Adam ran off down the stairs to use the restroom. I felt relieved. The anticipation was over, he was happy to see me, he made me feel accepted right away by giving me a hug, and he was cute.

Adam came back from the restroom and stood by the side of my round table. We briefly talked and then he said he had to help the band clean up and load their equipment in their van. He asked if I was sticking around and I told him yes. For the next 20 minutes as Adam was loading the van, he’d stop by my table to chat for a few minutes here and there. He had a lot of energy and it made me feel excited.

Once Adam was done loading the van, he sat at my table with me. He’s been sober for over five years so he didn’t order anything. He was about 5’11”, thin, had wavy black hair that was just above his shoulder, and full sleeve tattoos on his arms. He looked like a musician – sort of like Chris Cornell from Soundgarden.

Adam and I talked for the next 45 minutes about where we’ve lived and politics. He liked Trump, even though he can be crass. He said he likes to disrupt the system. Canada and the US were in the middle of trade talks that weren’t going well, so we talked about the current climate between our countries. I enjoy talking about politics so we continued for a while. At one point, he got a big smile on his face and said, “You get really passionate talking about this.”

I really appreciated him saying that with a smile on his face. My ex-husband, Aaron, hated that I got passionate about topics like politics. One time we were out with a few friends for dinner and I was getting animated while talking about politics. Under the table, he squeezed my leg and looked at me like, “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.” After we left the restaurant, I asked him to never do that to me again. It made me feel so belittled and controlled. But a few months later, he did it again while I was talking with some other people about politics at a restaurant. This time, I was angry that he was making me feel like I couldn’t be me and also angry that he was hiding the fact that he was squeezing my leg. He always liked to appear to be the “nice guy.” I said to the friends, “I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing Aaron. He’s squeezing my leg under the table to get me to shut up.” Understandably, there was an awkward silence.

Having Adam appreciate my passion for politics felt amazing. He wasn’t embarrassed, he liked it. I could be me without judgement. At 1:20 am, the bar was closed and they were cleaning up while trying to get people to leave. We decided we should leave and as we walked outside, Adam said, “You’re just so real – I like it.” We talked outside for a bit and I mentioned I thought some places were open until 2:00 am. He explained that only the underground clubs are open that late and he doesn’t do those clubs.

After talking for another 10 minutes, Adam offered to take me back to my Airbnb since I had taken the bus there. His van was illegally parked on the sidewalk so he needed to move it too. When we arrived at my Airbnb, there was nowhere to park so he just pulled up out front. We talked for a little bit, but I couldn’t invite him inside because I wasn’t allowed to have guests. I got out of the van and said maybe I’d come see his show the following night. He said he would like that.

Adam lived in Pemberton, about 20 minutes north of Whistler. When he got home, he messaged me for a bit, flirting, and then telling me goodnight. I was happy to have met him. He’s one of the rare guys on Tinder that messaged me shortly after we matched. He was always nice and fun, and I looked forward to seeing his show the following night.

Post Edited By: Mandy Strider
Thanks for reading! Hit the Like button or leave a comment!

Days 83-84: Dating the Wrong Guy in Abbotsford

Abbotsford is about 45 minutes from Vancouver and has 141,000 people. I planned on spending more time in Vancouver, but it’s expensive. A guy I had been texting with on Tinder, Ian, lived in Abbotsford and recommended it. It was cheaper so I chose to stay there. I had been traveling for two and half months and needed some down time.

After having a lazy morning, I drove to the grocery store to get some food. I had a whole house rented for the week and was looking forward to doing a little bit of cooking. I asked the woman at the register where their wine was because I couldn’t find any. She said they aren’t allowed to sell alcohol. Their law states that if a liquor store is within five miles, they cannot sell it. So I drove to the liquor store and got some vodka sodas.

I enjoyed my lunch at the house and updated my blog. At 6:30 pm, Ian picked me up to go for a walk. We had been texting on and off for a few weeks, but I hadn’t met him in person yet. He told me he was 5’10”, three inches shorter than me. As any female on dating apps will tell you, guys always overestimate their height. He was closer to 5’9”.

We drove about five minutes to the park and his voice was higher pitched than I imagined. His athletic clothes gave off a casual vibe. He grew up in Abbotsford, was 29 years old, had short blonde hair, played professional golf for awhile, and now works at his dad’s construction company.

We started the walk and Ian was walking incredibly fast. I thought it was rude and after 15 minutes, he was done walking and just wanted to go back to my place. He came inside and inspected the house.

img_7532

Ian made it clear what he was interested in. We briefly made out and the chemistry was not there. We decided to just hang out and watch TV. For the next couple of hours, we talked and got to know each other better. I enjoyed the company, even though he is not someone I would date. He said he’s not used to dating someone taller than him. Frustrated, I pointed out that my height was made very clear.

Ian said he was trying to be this aggressive guy and it was appealing to him that I was traveling because I didn’t know anybody there and nobody knew me. But he realized he didn’t want to be that guy  – the guy who uses a girl and then never sees her again. Apparently he realized I’m a real person.

Ian had always lived in the area, even during college. I told him about my travels and he said he felt like his life was boring in comparison. I couldn’t imagine living in the same place that long. Even growing up, I never lived in the same place for more than four years.

Ian left and said he’d contact me later so we could hang out again. We texted on and off for a few more days, but I never saw him again. He texted me and asked me if I was even attracted to him. I told him physically, yes, he’s an attractive guy.

Even though it didn’t work out with Ian, he was a lesson for me. I liked that he was assertive in his texts and said what was on his mind. I don’t like game-playing or men who can’t make a move.

While he was a physically attractive guy, his insecurity was unattractive. I intimidated him and he overcompensated by being overconfident and arrogant. I see this often with men who are shorter than me. Either they love it, or they feel insecure. I’ve learned I cannot control their perception of me, but I can decide if that person will continue to be in my life.

Ian wasn’t a mean guy, but he wasn’t kind. He taught me that while I thought I could just be causal and make out with someone, I can’t if I’m not attracted to them all around. I need physical attraction, mental, and emotional connections. Just being physically attractive isn’t enough.

He liked that I was just traveling through. It was disappointing to learn I was just some girl that he could easily get out of ever seeing again. I understand nobody wants to do long-distance. But I’ve learned I’m not really a casual dater. If I can be casual with a guy, it’s most likely because I don’t really like him much. If I like someone, I really like them. There’s not much of a gray area.

I tried to be reflective and hopefully learn lessons, and not make the same mistakes. I spent the next day going for a run around the neighborhood. It had just finished raining so it was still wet outside. It was humid and painful since I hadn’t ran in a month or so.

In the evening, I went to a brewery to sample some ciders. It was a Saturday night so it was crowded. The bartender told me about a table just outside by the window that sat two people. I took my four cider samples outside and watched all of the groups of people having a good time. Across from me was an empty chair, which made me feel lonely.

img_7540

Within 30 minutes, the mild allergic reaction I was trying to ignore came roaring in. My chest was feeling tight and painful. I was frustrated that this keeps happening more frequently and I don’t know what food and/or drinks are causing it. I took a Benadryl, even though I normally only take one before bedtime because of the severe drowsiness it causes.

After another 10 minutes, I couldn’t handle the pain from the reaction and I left. When I got back to my house, I took a second Benadryl and laid down on the couch. The alcohol mixed with two of the pills made me feel dizzy and out of it. I passed out on the couch until 1:30 am when I made it to my bed. All I could do was hope the allergic reactions, and meeting guys like Ian, didn’t continue.

Post Edited By: Mandy Strider
Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or hit the “like” button!

Day 63: Brewery Tour and Tinder

I needed to get out of my funk so I booked a brewery tour in the afternoon. I met the group at the log cabin visitor’s center in downtown Anchorage. I was surprised by how small and short the buildings were in the downtown area.

Our tour guide, Roberta, appeared to be in her 30s, had shoulder-length, red hair and was spunky in her jeans and tennis shoes. She asked me and a couple to hop inside the van so we could head to our first brewery. Roberta told us that there was a family of five who also signed up, but their flight was delayed and they were going to meet us at the first brewery.

Once we boarded the van, Roberta told us how she grew up in a small town just north of Anchorage and when she was 16 years old, she couldn’t wait to move away. During college, she lived in Wisconsin and then Washington. She noticed she kept moving her school schedule around so she could spend more time in Alaska, so she ended up moving back 15 years ago. She said, “Alaska is a hard life and you need to choose it. It’s different living here when you choose it.”

The couple who was sitting across from me in the van looked to be in their mid to late 30s. They were gorgeous, fit, and looked like they were heading to an expensive ski resort with their scarves and nice boots. The guy, Richard, had a reddish beard and his girlfriend had long, beautifully curled blonde hair. It turns out he grew up in Canon City, Colorado, where I lived for three years growing up. He was a year younger than me so we didn’t remember each other, but we must have seen each other (it’s a small town). After living on the east coast for 15 years, he now lives in Fort Collins, Colorado.

On the drive to the brewery, Roberta told us about the relationship Alaska has with alcohol. There are many small towns that have limits or ban alcohol because people were too drunk all the time. She explained that the reason bartenders often ask to see your driver’s license is because they are looking for the “red stripe,” which means you are only allowed to buy alcohol at bars, not at a store, where it is limited. Drunk drivers usually get the red stripe on their license.

Roberta told us that Alaskans drink more beer per capita than anywhere else in North America. I wanted to see if this was true, so I Googled it afterwards. According to this Thrillist article, Alaska is the third booziest state in the United States. However, this article from Anchorage Daily News shows that Alaska is the number one state for the cost of alcohol abuse. I mean, it’s ridiculously cold up there, so what else are people supposed to do?

Roberta also explained that most of the breweries there are local beer and are only sold in Alaska because it’s too expensive to ship it outside of the state. But they don’t have a problem consuming all of it in Alaska.

We arrived at the first brewery and met the family of five who just flew in from Denver, Colorado. The three children appeared to be in their 20s. We were all taken to the back where they brew the beer. We stood there listening to the brewing process for what seemed like an eternity, only getting small samplings of four different beers. Maybe it’s because I have done brewery tours before, but I was getting bored with all of the information and just wanted to drink some beer.

We all boarded the van and headed to the next brewery. When we first arrived, a woman who worked there gave a five-minute, behind-the-scenes tour and let us pour beer from a plastic fish on the wall. She quickly led us upstairs for the tastings. We sat around a table with some cheese and meat appetizers while we tried large samples of beers. These beers were very strong and we were all starting to feel it.

img_6316

The brewery had a system where people could buy a beer for someone, write their name on a piece of paper, and hang it on a metal board. If you had the name on a piece of paper (and could show ID) the beer is yours. I perused the board and saw a variety of names: a realtor who bought a beer for his clients; if your name is Ben and graduated from MIT; if you have passed level 1 and level 2 of TOGAF certification. I thought it was a really cool concept. Some were specific people, others were generic and just paying it forward. Sadly, I didn’t find one waiting for me.

img_6317

We boarded the van again to head to our third and final brewery. This time we were able to sit at a table, try different beers, and chat. The owner sat at the end of the table near me and told us a little bit about how she and her husband started the brewery two years ago. She appeared to be in her 50s and had a stern look about her. She was a former lawyer and her husband was a scientist/engineer. He was always brewing beer, so they decided to try out the brewery business. She said this is a lot more fun than practicing law, but not as lucrative.

Across the table from me was the mother in the family of five. It turns out she’s a lawyer and sues the government for discrimination. Her family was taking an Alaskan cruise out of Seward, but they wanted to check out Anchorage for a day first. After the cruise, they were going to spend a couple days in Vancouver so I gave her a lot of tips. We had a really enjoyable conversation and she was incredibly sweet. She offered me a place to stay if I’m in Denver and I appreciated her hospitality.

I was mad at myself for originally not thinking so highly of the family of five. My first impression was unflattering and judgmental. When I first saw that family, I think they reminded me of parts of myself that I’ve tried so hard to change. I’m always working out trying to lose weight and I’m still self conscience about my uncool clothes at times. We’re often the most critical of those that resemble the parts of ourselves that we don’t like. I think we all stereotype people and it’s up to us to check ourselves and change the mindset.

The brewery tour finished and I drove to Moose’s Tooth, a famous pizza place. There was a 65-minute wait for a table, but one seat available at the bar. The pizza was really good and I took some home for the next day. I went back to my Airbnb and watched a movie on my Ipad mini.

img_6321

Cody, the guy who had told me about a local volleyball game the day before, but hadn’t actually asked me to go to it, messaged and asked if I wanted to meet him at a bar. They had a reggae band playing and it was a Saturday night.

I wasn’t tired so I figured, why not? I didn’t arrive to the bar until close to 1:00 am and he was sitting at the bar with a bright red t-shirt. Cody was 29, had a semi-long, brown/reddish beard, was thin, and his long hair was pulled back underneath his ski hat.

I wasn’t really nervous meeting him because I wasn’t that interested in him, but figured it would be fun to see some nightlife in Anchorage. Cody was pleasant and talked a lot. He told me about five jobs he works, concerts he’s been to, and hiking. He’s from Anchorage and has traveled a little bit in the United States.

Cody told me that he spent a month in Toronto with a girlfriend, but got sick of her so he made up an excuse that he needed to see a concert. He drove from Toronto to Alaska in a few days and left her in Toronto. Great, another liar. I found myself being less and less interested.

The bar closed at 2:00 am and he asked if I wanted to get another drink at a bar down the street that was open until 3:00 am. We just started walking and ended up going inside the small dive bar. He had no problem with me paying for my drinks. In fact, he never even offered to pay. I don’t mind paying for myself, especially if I don’t like the guy. I never like to feel like I owe someone something. However, it is a nice gesture when a guy pays, or at the very least offers.

The bar closed at 3:00 am and we walked down the street towards our cars. Standing at the corner, I pointed towards my car and stopped walking. After talking for another few minutes, Cody said, “It’s really cold outside. Maybe you could drive me to my car so we can still talk for a bit without freezing?” We didn’t have jackets and it was pretty cold. I didn’t want Cody inside my car because I was afraid he’d try to kiss me. I replied, “I have a lot of stuff in my car.” He laughed and said, “Yeah, that happens to me too. I just move it all to the back seat.” I didn’t really respond to that and shortly after said I needed to get going.

Once I got back to my Airbnb, Cody continued to message me saying we were only two miles away from each other (Tinder shows distance). Surprised he didn’t get the hint that I wasn’t interested, I tried to politely not respond too much.

I reflected on Cody as I laid in bed. The good thing about meeting different guys is that it’s helping me determine what I want and what I don’t want in a relationship. Cody was immature, scrambled to get by, and wasn’t very smart. All of those were turn-offs to me and it was a good lesson. I was also proud that I didn’t force myself to like him as I probably would have done in the past. I was happy that I seemed to have learned that being alone is better than being with the wrong person.

Post Edited By: Mandy Strider
Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or send me a message with any questions!

 

Day 35: History of Seattle and Getting a Kiss

It was my last day in Seattle and I wanted to learn a little more about the city so I signed up for an underground tour. Meeting in downtown Seattle, the tour began in a basement of a skyrise. It was dark and had a setup like what you’d see during Halloween.

img_4766

The tour had about 15 people and as we sat in dark pews, the tour guide started by giving us the rundown of what the next 90 minutes would look like. We began by going around the corner and seeing the old store fronts.

Seattle was originally a logging town and port city, but really started to boom when they realized they could take advantage of people flocking to Canada and Alaska in search of gold. Seattle became a place where people (mostly men) could rest, buy supplies, and eat.

Being mostly men coming through the city, Seattle developed a seedy underground full of booze and prostitutes. The police and government officials overlooked all of this as long as these establishments paid their “tax” – which was basically a bribe. This went on for about 100 years until the 1970s when the FBI did an investigation and put a stop to all of it.

The shoreline of Seattle used to be giant cliffs overlooking the ocean, so people couldn’t build many houses there. The city center was near the port on soft ground and the tide changed dramatically at the end of the day. The tide would literally come into the little town, wash things away, and flood it.

The roads were made of a mixture of sawdust and dirt (remember, it was a logging town) and when the horse and carriages would come through the city, they’d poop on the street. The tide water became a combination of many things, including horse poop. There were some sections that had a consistency of oatmeal, and were like quick-sand causing people would drown. People literally risked their life to walk down the street.

In 1889, the city had a massive fire (miraculously, nobody died) and it cleared out thousands of rodents that carried diseases. It gave the city the chance to rebuild in brick and stone, and fix the tide issue. They decided all new streets would be graded one to two stories higher than the original streets. During this construction, the streets were built first and the sidewalks later. Merchants stayed open during construction and used ladders for people to climb down to their store until the sidewalks were complete. Lots of people actually died falling off of these ladders.

Once the sidewalks were complete, the storefronts were moved to the 2nd story, and the first story now became the basement, and the underground was born. Buildings were not connected to each other underground, but it gave way to the seedy happenings in the city. They installed makeshift “skylights” using little glass tiles so light came through. You can still see the mosaic titles on the sidewalks in Pioneer Square.

In 1907, the city condemned the underground because of bubonic plague carried by rats. After years of most of the underground being abandoned, they restored a few sections and started giving tours. In 1965, Bill Speidel starting giving tours and still operates today (which is the tour I took).

The city also spent time regrading the other parts of Seattle and demolishing the cliffs so houses and roads could be built. They used high-pressure water hoses to make the cliffs more like steep hills.

The tour was fascinating and I was able to see a few underground sections, including the Comedy Underground club, where comedians perform. Learning the history helped me to understand why the streets were so crappy and full of potholes – they sink 1/8th of an inch every year because underneath them it’s still sawdust and dirt.

img_4769

After the tour, I walked around downtown a bit and messaged a guy I had been talking to on Tinder, Jerry. I told him that it was my last night in Seattle (wanted to be clear I don’t live there as to not repeat the previous date I had when I first arrived to Seattle) and I was told I need to try the oysters. I asked if he wanted to go and he said he did and would pick me up.

I took an Uber back to my Airbnb to change into pants and freshen up. I thought it was nice he offered to pick me up. Most guys say they’ll meet you somewhere so this felt promising. Jerry arrived and I got into his car. He was about 5’11” – 6’ tall, with blonde/reddish hair, and was on the thinner side but fit. The wrinkles on his face made him look older than 32.

We decided on a place in downtown and Jerry had to parallel park. Backing into the space up a steep hill, he was nervous he’d mess up since I was watching. It actually felt nice for someone else to be nervous.

Jerry hadn’t eaten oysters in about 10 years so we didn’t know which ones to order. I said, “I’ll ask the waiter for help.” Jerry responded, “I’m usually embarrassed to ask and show I don’t know.” I explained, “Yeah, but my take on it is this. You ask and are embarrassed once. Then you know how to do it going forward and don’t have to worry about it again.” He smiled and said, “That’s true.”

We ate the oysters but agreed we don’t care for them very much. While eating, I learned a little more about Jerry. He has his master’s degree, was in the peace corps for two years, and is a project engineer for a nonprofit in Sierra Leone. He spent two years in Sierra Leone but told his company he can’t keep living there. They compromised and said he can do three months there and then three months in Seattle, as a rotation.

After oysters, Jerry asked if I wanted to walk around so we did. Lots of people were walking the streets as a parade had just finished. We walked for close to an hour and I noticed my hand kept hitting his. I thought my purse that was crossed over my shoulder must be bumping my hand into his hand. At one point, I quietly said, “Sorry”. But then I noticed Jerry kept looking at my hand. I thought, “Wait, is he trying to hold my hand. Crap. What do I do now??”

My problem is that I get very nervous at the anticipation of meeting someone, or holding hands, or kissing. It had been 2-1/2 years since I separated from my ex-husband after being married for 9 years. I hadn’t held hands or kissed anyone since my ex. Part of me just wanted to get it out of the way because otherwise, the more time that passed, the more anxious I became about it. It felt like a “build-up” and I would start to feel sick to my stomach.

Jerry and I arrived at a bar and he bought me a beer. Sitting close to me at the bar, Jerry became more flirtatious. Right after we finished our beers, the bartender asked if we wanted another one. As I was about to say yes, Jerry said no. Then he turned towards me and said, “If we’re going to have another beer, I shouldn’t drive so we should go to a bar close to my house. I can park in between my place and your place and walk you home after the bar and then I can walk home.” He lived about half a mile from where I was staying so it made sense.

As we left the bar and walked to Jerry’s car, he held my hand. It felt really nice to hold someone’s hand – it was sweet and genuine. Once Jerry parked near his house, we walked towards the bar and he continued to hold my hand.

We arrived at the bar, but it was closed. Jerry said he knew of another one nearby, but it was a dive bar. I was fine with that so we headed there. He bought us some beer and we sat across from each other at a small table near the pool table. I was holding my glass with my left hand and I noticed he kept looking down at my hand. So I grabbed my glass with my right hand and let go of the glass with my left hand. Jerry grabbed my left hand and held it. Then held it with both of his hands. I’ve never had a guy hold my hand across the table before and it was sweet.

We had a good conversation and it felt like Jerry was a good guy. When I felt he was going to kiss me, I got nervous and continued talking like a crazy person. Finally, we kissed! It was sweet and instantly I didn’t feel so nervous. It’s the lead-up that makes me feel sick. I hadn’t held hands or kissed someone in so long, I forgot how nice it was to have human touch. We are designed to have human touch – it’s one of the five love languages. I never realized how much I missed it until I didn’t have it for so long.

Jerry thanked me for asking him to get oysters and I thanked him for going with me. I knew I’d likely never see him again, but I was ok with that. He had spent a lot of time in Sierra Leone and I think he was in the same boat – we needed to connect with someone, even if it was just temporary.

Post Edited by: Misty Kosek

Day 34: Hiking and Discovering Tinder

The fan attempted to cool me off as I relaxed in my Airbnb, and I researched places to stay in Vancouver, British Columbia – my next destination. Sadly, I was finding some bad places online. For example, I found two listings by the same guy for $27 a night. In one listing, you could stay in the old, crappy motorhome sitting in his driveway. You are allowed to use the indoor bathroom and kitchen, however. The other listing was a couch in his living room. It was looking like Vancouver was going to be an expensive city to stay in.

To pass the time that evening, I decided to bite the bullet and sign up for Tinder. I had heard that Tinder has changed and now people find actual relationships on there, not just hook-ups. Very quickly, I started to get matches and messages, which felt a little overwhelming. It was also addicting. I had a hard time stopping myself from swiping – the guys on there didn’t end. I wanted to see who else was out there.

The next day, I went for a hike in the mountains about 45 minutes east of Seattle, called Granite Lakes Trail. I found the trail on an app I use frequently called, All Trails. It was about eight miles long, and involved just under 2,400 ft elevation gain. I enjoy a hard hike because it feels like a successful workout.

img_4675

I didn’t start the hike until around 3:00pm (I was up too late diving into the world of Tinder). The stifling heat made sweat start to pour right away. The trail winded through the trees, had some amazing views, and at times had a river nearby.

 

About a mile into the trail, I passed three older women, each about 50 feet away from each other. Shortly after that, I passed a man and his mother. After that, I didn’t see another person the entire hike. This can be a little scary at times but I’m pretty used to it.

After 3.5 miles, I had to stop and put on bug spray as bugs were eating me alive. There was no breeze and the spray sat on top of my sweat. Shortly after I stopped to put on bug spray, I heard something in the bushes that lined the narrow trail. I stopped, turned off my headphones, and looked around.

Researching trails in the area, I saw reviews that said people had seen a mountain lion. People gave advice about never turning your back on a mountain lion, always look them in the eye, and back up slowly.

This terrified me because I was used to preparing for black bears. With black bears, you should make yourself look large, talk, make noise, and scare them off. Reading those reviews about mountain lions, and how they can easily tear you apart, made me paranoid.

Hearing something in the bushes made my heart race. I was certain it was a mountain lion and he would kill me. I slowly pulled out a small pocket knife from my side pouch on the waist belt of my backpack. I opened it and held it on top of my trekking pole. I slowly walked in silence with my heart racing, looking in all directions. I know that knife likely wouldn’t save me, but it made me feel like it was better than nothing. These are the times it’s scary hiking alone.

Terrified, I ventured on and made it to the top, which had a beautiful lake. There were some giant rocks just off the lake to the side so I hopped over smaller rocks to a large one that I could sit on and eat a snack. The mosquitos were insane at the lake so I put more bug spray on and watched them coast on the water.

img_4716

After eating my power bar, I headed back down the trail. The sun was behind the mountain as dusk set in. By the time I got to my car, I was starving. It took about 15 minutes to get to the highway and I searched for somewhere to eat.

img_4730

img_4738

I spotted a Costco off the highway, and a slice of cheap pizza sounded delicious. As I walked towards the window, the employee announced, “Last call for food”. I picked up my pace since I was in the parking lot and he said “Ok, just for you, I’ll stay open.” I ordered a slice of pizza and a frozen yogurt. Sitting outside to eat, the sun had now set and it was dark outside.

img_4745

By the time I got back to the Airbnb, it was around 9:30 pm, and I was exhausted. A match from Tinder asked if I wanted to go over to his house but I declined. I showered and went to bed. As I laid in bed, I was “super-liked” by a guy who was 36 years old.

His first message to me was, “You know those word association tests? The first thought that came to my mind when I saw your photo yesterday was that you were my kindred spirit.”

I asked him what made those words to mind. He responded, “You look REALLY familiar. When I look inward to understand where this feeling comes from, I stumble across a divergence between who I am, and who I imagine I am. Your image represents who I think I am, so it makes me really happy. It’s like you are a ‘warm and fuzzy’ machine on full blast! But that is just physicality; important, yet ultimately fixed. What about the things that we can change?”

“Whoa,” I thought. “Maybe I got myself into more than I expected”.

Post Edited by: Misty Kosek