Wednesday, June 4, 2008

The Campfire Endurance Test

We walked out outside of the Red Room, buzzing slightly from the alcohol. Her blonde curls fell onto my chest as she pressed her body into mine. I pulled her closer as she whispered into my ear.
"I'd go home with you right now, James," her finger traced a line from around the square of my jaw, across my chest, and down the bumps of my abdomen before stopping to trace a circle above my belt line. "If you had a home to go to." She kissed me on the cheek and left.
I shrugged. She wasn't my type. I'm not into hot chicks. Or one's with baller jobs in good accounting firms. Or ones that love sex. Nope. That kind of girl isn't for me. I'd rather go climbing. So I did. Yosemite. Jailhouse. Vegas.
The next time wasn't as painful. We'd hooked up a few times over the years. I wanted sex. She wanted a relationship. Neither of us got what we wanted. "It's hard to have an emotional connection when you're not around all the time." I shrugged in response. She had a point. Emotional connections cut into my time on the rock. We stopped talking and I went climbing. Indian Creek. Zion. More Yosemite.
It doesn't matter where I go, the scenario's always the same. In Hueco, in Smith Rocks, in Toulumne. There's five dudes standing around the camp fire and only one girl. Everyone's boasting. Everyone's slandering. Everyone's waiting for the other guys to go to bed so he can spit serious game to the girl. It's the campfire endurance test. Finally, she gets tired, and leaves. Probably to find her boyfriend.
But sometimes she leaves with you, which only leads to more trouble. I walked away with a girl in Toulumne back to my campsite. I grabbed her, pulled her into my, and stared at her. She pursed her lips and moved to kiss me, then shook her head and stopped. My eyebrows raised quizzically. "Umm actually, I'm dating your friend right now." Yikes. I pushed her away and gave her a cordial good night. She kissed me on the cheek and kicked stones back to her campsite.
"You don't get a girlfriend, you get your turn." Or so the saying goes. You're either the guy who's girlfriend is about to leave you for your friend or you're the friend who's about to steal your "buddy's" girlfriend. It's fucked up. Who wants a "turn"? But...who wants to be alone?

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