Tuesday, February 14, 2017

The Date That Wasn't

I was kind of excited when I met a pretty attractive dude and he asked me to go skiing with him. I'm a beginner skier, and he's a seasoned pro, but he was earnest in his pursual to get me back on the slopes and increase my skill set.

Maybe it was how he took three weeks to confirm a date that would work best for the both of us.

Maybe it was how he was 30 minutes late picking me up, and never stated why, or that he was sorry, or whatever. But it's cool. People run late. I'm flexible.

Our adventure begins on a cool winter day.

The drive up to Winter Park wasn't really that bad. His taste in music was questionable, with many curse words, but I've really grown over the past year and try to accommodate anyone and everyone. Meet people where they're at, if you will.

I tried engaging him in conversation, but man, conversation just did not flow. There'd be moments of talk, and then long moments of silence. Trying to engage him in why he chose his specific career didn't even work, because even though he's well-educated, apparently he wishes he had actually become a nurse and joined the Air Force. I get it. Being a nurse is the best ever, and sometimes you have regret for not being cool, like me. I kid! He's got a great job and is better educated than I ever hope to be, so I'm not sure what the deal is.

He had quite the mouth on him, and on occasion during the drive up, I was pondering what am I doing with my life, and how did I wind up in a car with a near stranger on a two hour drive. But hey! Life is an adventure.

He talked a lot about his best friend/roommate/"platonic wife" (...), but whatever. You do you.

Image result for expert skierAnyway, we get there, and he was rather kind, bringing me a helmet, and insisting that I change my wonderful, warm (purple) socks out for some of his socks. (Odd? I don't know. He thought his socks were better than mine. Were they? The world will never know.)

The first few hours were great. He's skiing the slopes like this  >>>

<<<  And I'm skiing the slopes like this

But it works, you know?

So life is going pretty great, and I'm starting to feel pretty good about this new sport I'm learning. I'm figuring out how to get back up with grace and ease when I fall, I'm getting comfortable with going faster, avoiding crashing into people, starting and stopping; this is good.

So this guy, let's name him Rocco, tells me that he thinks I'm ready for a more advanced slope. At this point, I trust him intuitively; he's former ski patrol. So we go up the lift, and it just keeps going up, and at this moment, I'm pretty sure we're ascending Mount Everest. We just keep ascending skyward, and the mountain below us is getting increasingly steeper, but Rocco assures me that this is just a small step up from the greens I've been getting comfortable on.

Image result for mount everest

Having a minor heart attack, we begin the descent down the mountain. At this point, I'm trying to stay in perfect peace, so I'm humming some nice Christian songs, telling myself "Sarah, he said it's just a titch steeper than the other runs you've been on. This ain't no thing but a chicken wing."

Also me
And it goes okay for the first bit. Then it gets steeper. And steeper. And suddenly I'm facing a steep vertical slope and realize....there's no way I'm making it down this mountain alive. So that's pretty cool.

Rocco tells me to not focus on the mountain, and to just look at it like the summit that was nursing school. When I first began, there was no way I thought I could accomplish it, but bit by bit, I made it.

...Except, my life wasn't in danger during nursing school, and this is beginning to be the worst decision I've ever made, ever.

I tell him to tell my parents that I love them.

And then the falling begins. Head over bum, careening down the mountain. A cliff to my left, a cliff to my right. There was no way to save face at this point, because you just can't get a grip on reality when you're on two pieces of whatever skis are made out of and you're careening down to your death. But I was brave. And wasn't really scared, but I was apprehensive. I dreamed of better days, simpler days, when I wasn't flying down a mountain with a guy who I didn't actually know, who was doing this descent backwards as if it were the easiest thing ever. It was great.

At some point, ol' Rocco realizes that I'm struggling a bit, and he's like "Do you think you can make it?"

Gee Rocco, I don't know. Maybe if I decide to take my skis off and hike down? Maybe if I jump off this cliff? 

He tried to help me, and this sounds weird, but bear with me; we did this strange maneuver where I held out my poles in front of me, while he also held onto the poles, and he skied backwards, while I held on for dear life, and Rocco effortlessly glided with me down most of the mountain.

Image result for positivity
It took about ten decades, and the descent just kept going on and on, and I tried really hard to be cool and graceful, but at this point, it was pointless. At one point I fell, and my hair got trapped underneath my ski, and I was like "This is so great, lying upside down on a mountain, my ski behind my head with my hair trapped. Maybe my hair will be ripped off. Maybe I'll be decapitated when the next skier or snowboarder comes down and accidentally runs me over."

Positivity is power, dontcha know.

Somehow, I make it down the mountain alive, and Rocco is like "What should we go down next???"

And I tell Rocco that now would be the best time ever for a break. So, we take a break, and Rocco is like *chuckle* "I thought that run was a blue, but it actually turned into a black diamond."

Small talk ensues, and much like the ride to Winter Park, it's marked by long moments of silence. Until he starts picking his nose, which by the way guys, is super attractive. He's like "Do I have boogers? You'd tell me if I have boogers, right?"

And to town he goes, pulling out a nice juicy green one, and then wiping it on his pants.

I can do a lot of things, and I see a lot of nasty things at work regularly, but snot always gets me going. I had another moment there of self reflection and wondering how I got to this point in my life.

Image result for thumbs upSomehow, we got to talking about the Zika virus, and macrocephaly, and he mentioned how if he knew his significant other was going to have a child with such a medical impairment he'd want to "Get rid of that thing." Glad kids are "things" now. But don't get me started on that topic.

The rest of the afternoon goes relatively well, minus one extra stint down what was comparable to a Colorado Fourteener. So while I'm focusing on staying upright, he's cruising downward and looking at his phone. Sometimes you just gotta text.

At one point, he's like "It's a good thing we're not dating, cause you'd be so mad at me for when I took you down that black diamond!"

...A good thing indeed. I don't know how differentiating between dating/not dating could make someone mad at you for inadvertently taking you down a black diamond when you're only a beginner skier, but hey.

The end of the day comes, and he's like "Should we get something to eat in town?"

At this point, while I'm kind of over him, I'm also pretty hungry.

We get back to his car, and he hands me a beer and triscuits. Little did I know, that was our dinner. The beer was nasty, and I have disliked triscuits for years, but I munched. I will give him credit though; he gave me a cute little chair to sit in, and that was nice.

So I'm drinking my nasty beer, and eating my unsavory triscuits, while he stands by picking his nose, and then snorting his snot out onto the ground. I had a moment there where I almost vomited, not gonna lie. It was right there, so close to a full-on vomit fest.

Parked across from Rocco's car was a vehicle with a pro-life  bumper sticker. Again, I'm not getting political here, but I am pro-life, sorry friends. (Actually, I'm not sorry, but I digress). He makes fun of said bumper sticker, and then we notice another vehicle down the way that's stuck. Rocco says "There's no way I'm helping that idiot, (Insert a number of curse words here)". But I'm like "Well, maybe they need a push...."

I guess he changed his mind, because in the next second, he's pulling out a shovel and headed over yonder. Turns out, he knew the dude who was stuck (awkward, eh?) and wound up pulling him out of the ditch. Said driver of stuck vehicle turns to me and asks "Are you the girl who..."

Rocco says "NO. This is Sarah. You don't know her."

I head back to my nasty beer and covertly dump the remainder out, because there's just no way I can finish this thing. He heads back my way and comments that if the driver of the vehicle with the pro-life bumper sticker needed help, there's no way in heck that he would help them. How nice.

We start the drive back, and after I realized that dinner was triscuts and beer, I settle in for the remainder of the long drive, yearning for home.

He picks his nose a lot, and I pretend to not notice.

Conversation topics vary, and I learned he'd like to try crack sometime because he doesn't have an addictive personality, and all things can be done in moderation. He'd also like to "snort crack off a hookers ass, but he doesn't know of any hookers he can trust." (Direct quote).

He was genuinely shocked to learn that I've never tried drugs, and told me that he'd like to try and get me high sometime. That sounds really great, but no.

He'd also like to try and get me drunk sometime, but also, no.

We talked about favorite foods (I'm a known picky eater), and he says:

"I feel bad for any guy who tries to take you on a date, because you're such a picky eater."

Up to that point, I really wasn't sure if this was a date or not, but all day long, I was praying that he'd have no interest in me because it turns out, you can be super attractive and well educated, and yet be completely unappealing.

The latter end of the drive, he got very talkative, and I remained enthusiastic while we talked about how many bowel movements he has a day, and how pets are such a waste of money.

By the time we got back to my house, I couldn't get out his car fast enough. I just started walking, and he's like, "Give me a hug goodbye!" So I did, feigning that I had an absolutely great day, and thanking him for pushing me to the limit.

He then says "And have a great Valentines Day, okay?"


He did text me this morning to ask if I am sore today, which I am not, and he stated "You're a baller!"

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