I moved West single and starry-eyed. With so many trails to explore and mountains to climb, I knew the area was going to attract people that liked the same things as me, and maybe even one who liked me a little bit too. In fact, I was pretty adamant that a mutual passion for the mountains was going to be the make-or-break facet of my future dating life.
Then I met Will and Laura. Will was a typical Pacific Northwest transplant, coming in hot from four years of college in Vermont with aspirations to ski, hike, bike, and kayak his way across the whole region, and then maybe the world. He had turned his purple Chrysler Town & Country minivan into a verified rolling gear shed and loved anything that got him into the mountains. He also loved Laura. She, however, could do without the peaks that called Will’s name, claiming to hate skiing and only camping if it involved an electronic music festival. To top it off, she revealed that she’d never been on a hike, and that she had no plans to break that streak anytime soon.
I was floored. Here were two people who had been together for years that hadn’t done something that I considered a pre-req for any kind of longevity in the dating game. Not even a single hike? Nada. I assumed this wild admission must be some sort of relationship denial or communication breakdown, but what I learned was much more revealing.
You see, Laura was totally down with Will’s mountain obsession. She talked openly (and quite candidly) about Will being more fun to be around when he came back from a hike or a day in the snow—and that trading a few hours apart was more than worth it. Will echoed the sentiment. Laura was passionate about her art and pottery. That wasn’t really Will’s speed, but you know what was? The lit-up Laura that came back from her studio sessions.
Still in my early 20s, I had really only seen relationships as dusty mirrors. This, though, was the first time I watched partners support each other’s passions rather than share them. I’m pretty sure that’s when the Earth started shaking under my feet. It was uncomfortable, but refreshing, that kind of perspective shift you don’t really want but might kind of need. Since getting to know Laura and Will, I’ve opened my mind a bit, dating both hikers and non-hikers. While there were many pros and cons lists and plenty of overthinking, I’ve met some great people, untangling a bit of my identity and the activities I love in the process. That last part is a continual journey, but it’s comforting knowing there’s plenty of connections to make off the beaten path. Hey, most will even tolerate me going off to do my own thing once in a while (if I ask nicely, of course).
I’m not saying I know a lot about a lot, but thanks to Laura and Will I find myself holding onto a simple truth: Standing on top of a mountain with your person is amazing, but finding someone who will let you be who you are—hiker, potter, or otherwise? That one’s hard to top.
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