Having terrified fun in the face of an adventure

So, we thought it would be adorable to participate in what was referred to as a “sunset hike.” The idea was magical. Strangers gather in a parking lot and begin an evening hike. We hike during dusk, watch a sunset together and then descend as the sun sets, guided by the luminous glow of the full moon. Sure we will bring headlamps, but almost more as an accessory, because, after all, full moon will light our way.

When we arrived at said parking lot, our anticipated crowd of 20 or so fellow hikers turned into more than 80. My friend and I looked at each other with confidence.

“Well, we don’t really need guidance, do we now?” Not wanting to be stuck in a crowd of hikers, we decided to forge ahead on our own.

The leisurely start to our walk gave us false bravado.

We sat on a rock and looked over at the hillside that spread out below us. Magical, we thought. But sunset was nowhere to be seen. The promise of woods and hills covered in soft orange glow was not meant to be, because it was cloudy. This might wreak havoc with our descent plans lit by the soft glow of the full moon. Never mind, we thought.

We were committed to both fun and survival of the activity.

Darkness was falling and the moon or - other hikers - were nowhere to be seen. We donned our headlamps and that’s when I realized some items simply shouldn’t be purchased from a dollar store. I I assume condoms, pregnancy tests and - as I learned - headlamps.
At first glance, my lamp was competitive enough. But upon even the subtlest glance down at my feet, the lamp aggressively swung into my face, blinding me. I embraced the challenge, vowing to invest into a better lamp immediately upon my return, should I survive. One added element of danger was my friend’s walking sticks. She was ahead of me, swinging her walking sticks wildly with abandon and in her enthusiasm forgot my presence behind her. This led to a couple of near-misses wherein the sticks nearly got my eye, which was already partially blinded by the poorly designed headlamp. Our walk was elevated to an adventure.

We quickly realized why this was not the trail to take during the dark. As we semi-blindly scrambled down the hill, through a creek bed, skipping across slick stones to traverse across a full-on brook, while climbing over muddied fallen logs….we knew we had chosen the path less traveled.

Covered in mud and dirt with bruises that have yet to blossom, we at last spotted the end. From the other end of the forest, we saw the group we were trying outrun.

Like a cult on their way to a sacrifice, 80 headlamps emerged from the forest.
They seemed perfectly clean.

How peeping led to marriage

The other day I was regaling someone with a dating mishap from a couple of years ago. She was amused by my misfortune, and giggled gleefully, as I sipped my beer dejectedly.

But I thought – heck why not amuse more of you?

In this story, I played a key role in reuniting a previously crumbled relationship. Am I a hero? Perhaps. Let’s go back a couple of years. A mutual friend had suggested she set me up on a date. He sounded great. For one, he could spell. I was in.

Following some intriguing texting, we decided to go strawberry picking. It was delightful. But that’s where I should’ve started to pay attention.

You see, it hasn’t even been a year since he broke up with his girlfriend of 10+ years when she rejected his proposal. Ok, I thought, that might not be as final as one might think, but let’s give it a shot. He then told me he wrote a song about their breakup, and would like to tattoo the lyrics onto his body.

Alright, that’s a bit of a sign he may not be over it, I thought, but let’s keep giving him the benefit of the doubt here.

The last droplet of information that should have just forced the red flag right in my face was when he revealed to me that while he no longer lives with his ex, he did move into an apartment immediately next door to hers.

Now it did strike me as peculiar that you would want to run into your ex that frequently. Also, did Ottawa run out of other apartment buildings? But I guess at least he didn’t have to drag his bindle of sadness and memories too far. Once again, however, I shoved that red flag far into the depths of the pockets that represent denial. That was probably the absolutely only apartment available in this city of a million.

On one date, that lasted 14 hours, we got caught in the rain ended up at his apartment.

What I didn’t know at the time was that his ex was peeking through the peephole – presumably not creepily at all – and keeping an eye out on her man. Sure she didn’t want him, but god help anyone else who might! Like a predator watching his prey, she stood silent against the door of her apartment.

 “He left so early this morning,” she likely thought , “why isn’t he back yet to write more breakup songs about me?”

And alas she spotted me. This is when the sheer power of potential loneliness overtook her. What if he won’t mourn her forever? What if he moves on? What if she eventually has to change apartments? This cannot stand. She took a swig of …herbal tea probably (she was a vegan) …and decided to pen a love letter.

The next day, he reveals to me receipt of this letter.

“well…that’s looking real promising for me,” I mused.

“No, no …I’m only meeting with her to talk. Nothing more,” he assured me.

“Yeah, no, that sounds really great  and chats with exes are usually pretty unemotional and easy and I will definitely continue to be the person you date. I can feel it.”

He was meeting with her on Sunday. Our dinner date was set for Monday. Well long story short - they are now married and have me to thank for it. Well, me and a functioning peephole.