For the record, I don’t like snow; its cold, wet and, lately, everywhere I look. When the white shit comes down, I prefer to be indoors keeping warm (naked-like, if possible); that’s my idea of the perfect snow day.
So why the fuck would I voluntarily spend a day at a ski lodge, when all they offer is snow? Was I suffering from momentary insainty? Was I drugged? Maybe I was just bored with fun?
Scout asked me. And I said yes.
See, Scout wanted to strap two smooth pieces of metal to weighed down feet and careen down the mountain-side. Not my idea of fun. I’m not Sonny Bono. I’m way cuter.
But… I was invited. And I went. And was then sardined into a smelly, dirty, sweaty, overcrowded room surrounded by New England’s version of hicks. And without a single malt liquor in sight. Oh, and my phone died about forty-fives minutes in.
And here I thought Hell was in Michigan. Silly, sober me.
Don’t get me wrong; I could have said no. But Scout is an avid skier and as such a trip to the Lodge with little me in tow was important. Something about that whole ME plus ME equals WE thing. So in my attempt to be a good boyfriend, I looked at it as a way to show my support in Scout’s interest. If it makes Scout happy, I’m happy to tag along. Plus, some time somewhere besides the usual haunts could inspire something new to write.
And did it ever.
Vermont without the Charm
There was good reason for the Lodge’s name (I won’t say what it is, but its named after one of the worst hair-styles in history). It smelled… like there was a long dead and rotting corpse hanging from the rafters; at least then, my interest would have been piqued. But no. The people there just smelled. Like, eww. And they were rude – pushing, shoving, yelling… I got more than my fair share of dirty looks (as if they somehow knew what I thought of them), hit on twice by a fourteen year old and my ass grabbed twice. By the same aforementioned fourteen year old. Not touched. Not grazed. Full-on handful of ass.
I know my ass is that grabable, but still people… Buy me a drink first. Also, be old enough to purchase said drink.
Oh wait. No bar.
Holy shit. You mean people do this sober? I couldn’t be drunk enough…
And this room was filled with all these crazy-when-sober people who had paid good money to ski doing nothing but taking up space. Its like swiping your American Express and just talking to the hooker.
So there I was, running on one hour of sleep and in the middle of East Bumblefuck (maybe just west of it actually – there were log cabins), I sat down at an over-crowded table set just beneath the magical moving leak and gave writing a try. At least that part worked out for me. See, I can find a silver-lining or two.
All this non-fun got me thinking. Why, seeing how I don’t ski, did I bother going to this frozen hell? Even shit-housed I wouldn’t allow my best friends to drag me this far from intelligence. Saying no wouldn’t have ended this relationship. We’re both allowed and encouraged to have separate fun. And I realized that the ME plus ME equals WE equation changes more than a situation; something changes the people involved. But who, or what, causes the change(s)? Does Scout change me? Do I change me? Or does being a WE change me? Is there some strange power the word “relationship” has that causes a person to do something so far out of their happy-place for another person’s sake?
A WHOLE NEW WORLD, A WHOLE NEW(ISH) ME
I have, of my own accord, made adjustments to the way I respond to outside stimuli. When Scout does something that annoys me (and lets be honest on how often that can happen) I just brush it off. Its a little thing and because I want the whole package in my life I let go. I give Scout a bit more leeway than I do others because there are far more happy smiling points than arched brow annoyed ones.
As such, I’ve become more forgiving. Hell, I’ve shortened the list of shit that piss me off. And these, I believe, makes me a better – well, at least nicer – person.
And I’ve noticed changes in Scout. Good ones (not that there was anything wrong before) and that makes me want to be a better (okay… nicer) person in return.
This weird give-and-take thing is happening. But why? Why do both parties change when it was the pre-change people that were attracted to each other?
Honestly, I don’t mind the change(s); it shows how flexible I can be be even when dressed. And they are having a positive effect on me. It would just be nice to know the why. Damn logical part of my brain; can’t keep shit simple.
Scout hasn’t tried to actively change me; every change has been my decision. And I haven’t tried to change Scout. But what about the relationship itself. Am I changing for, or because of, the relationship. And… is it possible to lose oneself in a newly forming WE? I’ve seen that happen before. I certainly don’t want to wake up one day and find that a big part of ME is gone; not that I think it will, mind you. Just that damn annoying logical part of me acting up again.
Maybe its better to just enjoy the ride. I’m happy. Scout’s happy. And together we’re very happy. And maybe that’s all that matters. We’re both who we were before we met; we’re just expressing ourselves in new ways.
And just so you know, I wasn’t bored the whole day. I got a good bit of writing done. I met interesting people (that I couldn’t wait to leave). And when Scout came back inside from the mountain (hill) that smile I got was priceless.
Once back at Scout’s place, there was some PG-13 fun. Followed by shit I’m exhausted. Followed by I’m happy you came.
And that right there made it so worth it.
After all the newness of me, I still see ME in the mirror. I still feel like ME. And, for the most part, I still act like ME. And that for the most part is just fine with me. Because if by giving in just a little on such a minor (to me) thing makes Scout smile like that, I’m happy to do it.
And as for what causes these changes? Who knows. And when a day ends as great as that one, who gives a shit.
Yea. It was that worth it. Even if I did get molested by a barely pubescent brat.