Camping

I am a city girl. Yes, in the name of love, I’ve herded cattle (think: dusty/dirty), participated in a Rocky Mountain oyster harvest (think: disgusting and smelly) and even shaved a few sheep (think: hot and itchy) but at the end of the day, I was always able to climb into a warm shower and a clean bed. The only wildlife I had to worry about was house pets.  Camping? In the wilderness?! Are you kidding me?!

As it turns out, not kidding me. Before I met my husband, I did not ‘do’ camping unless you considered staying at the Holiday Inn camping.

Alas, I fell in love with a man who loved the outdoors. He liked to canoe, hike, camp, fish and take care of bodily functions in the woods. I liked clean fingernails, un-inflatable beds and the comforts of home which included a non-portable, private potty with soap and running water.

Enter, stage left: My outdoors-y husband. We were well into our dating relationship. He’d seen me without makeup and in my most unflattering pair of sweat pants. He thought I was cute. He thought we should try camping.  I asked what his version of camping was. He said tent. I said, “tent?!” Tent.  “Outhouse and tent?” Outhouse and tent.  Oh super hey.

I knew what he was doing. Either he was that transparent or I am just that good. He was putting me through the last paces in order to determine if he should invest more time into me. Once again, in the name of love, City Girl went camping.

He took me to Maplewood State Park. He set up the campsite while I parked my carcass on a folding chair and enjoyed a cold toddy. There was just something about the energy of the campground that was so serene and calming. I noticed a difference in Trinity’s mood right away. He was less stressed, he joked more often and was more playful.

I found myself relaxing and believing I could do this. I mean, there was a nice (comparatively speaking) port-a-potty right by our campsite, the scenery was beyond beautiful and there were tons of trails to explore.

Then there was the grilling of the food, the crackling of the campfire and the allure of star gazing. Man, I was hooked (Alert: Fishing pun in case you missed it!). One night was all it took to convert a ‘must shower every day’ gal to one that didn’t care if her teeth were brushed.

A few months later, while we were camping, Trinity admitted taking me camping WAS a test (Aha! I knew it! Men!). Then, after months of being met with silence when I told him I loved him, he quietly said, “I love you, too.”

It’s camping season again and we are armed with a new, larger tent. Trinity tells me I won’t know how to act as you can stand up in this one. He does spoil me so.  We’ll have baby doll with us and I’m looking forward to watching her giggle-squeal in delight at the raccoons, squirrels and fishies.

I’m also looking forward to not showering, sleeping on an inflatable bed and getting dirt under my fingernails. My, oh my, how tent camping does de-princess-ize me.