Friday, May 08, 2009

Missing you (since you've been gone)

The boy is off on a two day backpacking/hiking trip with a mutual friend (whom I shall dub 'Curly.') A mutual friend who (as his wife pointed out) shares a surprising number of traits with the boy. As such, I'm sure they're currently reveling in their unshowered, damp, two day hiking had-to-carry-all-supplies-on-their-back manliness. And as much as I miss the boy, I am not at all disappointed that I didn't go wasn't invited.

Not one little bit.

See, when the boy and I met, I was 100% honest with him. Every word I said to him in that first conversation has stood the test of time.* One of the things that I mentioned was that I "love to do things outdoors, but I'm not so much a camper." To which the boy responded, "Really? I love to camp."

Then I went and did this madness. All of a sudden, the boy figured that perhaps the door to camping had been opened a crack.

It hasn't. Truly.

When the boy and I started hanging out with Curly and his wife (who is a super cool awesome person, btw) the boys began discussing the possibility of a camping trip for the four of us. Uh oh. The more we hung out, the more the idea appealed to them. My response was, "Sure! If you guys plan the trip, I am SO THERE!" Since Curly's wife is no more looking forward to the camping than I am (and immediately grasped the implications of having the boys plan the trip) she agreed.

Did I mention that Curly and the boy are very similar? Nothing has been planned. It's been a couple of years now. I felt pretty safe.

Then Curly had to go and propose a two day hiking extravaganza. And, much to my surprise, it actually happened.**

In the days leading up to this hiking trip, the boy was very very excited. As he gathered up everything he would need (and didn't already have,) he made a list.

Sleeping bag
Emily's Camera
Water Filter
Poop Shovel

I'm sorry, what?

Yeah - apparently a poop shovel was needed. You know, so that a hole can be dug to poop in, and the poop can then be buried.

I'm sorry, what?

The boy was about to explain to me again, when I interrupted to tell him that I completely understood, and that there was no way I was ever (EVER) going to do that. I mean, I know that I've backpacked. And I've camped. And that I was traumatized by having to poop in a glorified hole in the ground while doing so.*** But I didn't actually have to dig the hole!

The boy showed a rare flash of emotion and got a bit upset. "Well, you know this means that we can never go on a backpacking trip together!"


After all, I think that if you got a girl who previously thought "roughing it" was Motel 6 to agree to camping, it falls under "compromise." Trying to get her to agree to dig a hole in the ground and then defecate into it....well, that's just madness.

*Which is more than I can say for some people. Ahem. "I'm a morning person" indeed.

**And Curly and the boy are, like, friends now. Like, friends independent of the four of us. Which is weird. Because previously, Curly's wife and I were friends independent of the group, but the boys just came to dinner when they were told. And now they're all hanging out and camping and... DEAR GOD I'M GOING TO HAVE TO CAMP! Which I've actually made my peace with.**** Until the boy told me about the new tent he had purchased. The tent that is big enough for him, myself, and "our dogs." (cue the ominous music) I'm sorry, what? Not only do I have to camp, I have to camp with my nemesis? When did I sign on for this??

***Because sometimes people turn thirty. And sometimes when they turn thirty, they do crazy, insane, out of their mind things that they would never normally do. And sometimes those things are incredibly poorly thought out, but turn into once-in-a-lifetime breathtaking adventures. But they were still insanity. This should never, ever, be forgotten.

****Beer. There will be lots of beer. Enough beer so that the gigantic bugs disappear and are definitely not within a one mile radius of me.


zlionsfan said...

John Waite and the Outfield? Good taste in music ... someone else must have written the title for you.

Beer will not solve your problem. Not in a hundred different ways. Allow me to illustrate one of them: with beer, there is an increased likelihood of two things:

1. Not realizing that there is a gigantic bug on you.
2. Falling over onto something on the ground, like bugs. Or a hole. Or a hole filled with ... something.

ems said...

The boy says "Thanks for making sure Emily never ever goes camping."

Candace said...

I disagree...Try will be better.

I do enjoy camping but diging holes does not sound fun!