When I was 30, I fell in love, which of course meant I was going to get married.
The object of my affection was an avid outdoorsman, a camper, a cowboy, and loved all things having to do with nature.
I envisioned us taking lovely nature walks along the shore, kissing beneath the seas, with my long blond hair (which I didn't have) ruffling in the breeze. Oh it was a pretty picture! When we went to the High Sierra's to camp for the first time, I packed the cutest clothes and all of my toiletries and cosmetics. You know, with true love you just want everything perfect.
The first day of camping was kind of an eye opener. We were someplace out in the wilderness next to a stream. There were no bathrooms! There were no showers! There was no picnic table. Excuse me, how is this going to work again?
During the day, my soon to be husband (and soon to be ex husband too) set up the tent, set up the camp stools and a camp table, pulled out the sleeping bags, started a fire, hung a tarp thing around what he called the "potty" after digging a hole in the ground. Dear God! This was beginning to look like romance at its best!
I sat on one of the camp stools and watched him, wondering if I had lost my mind. All this flurry of activity in this dirty dusty place. Oh and that stream! How perfect! We could bathe in it. Uh huh. If you can heat it up I'll bathe in it. I'm not going into ice water thank you. I'd rather be dirty.
I will admit he did all of the cooking, the clean up, and such after setting up camp, but I was too traumatized to even think about helping. And worst of all, I was ruining my Italian leather boots with the 3 inch heel I had purchased just for this occasion.
If the daytime was bad, I was soon to find out the night was worse. Howls, noises, funny lights, creepy crawlies, ghosts, vampires, zombies as well as these guys made it impossible for me to sleep.
The second night of camping I relied on a drink (or five) around the campfire before I climbed into the sleeping bag that my beloved had thoughtfully zipped into one large sleeping bag for both of us. Any thoughts of romance probably left his head when he heard my drunken snores. It's hard to believe I lasted for three long nights.
By the end of the trip, this woman looks almost exactly how I was feeling.