A male reader (shush, men do so read this blog… grant it, it’s usually by accident when they get a google alert for Gillian Anderson or the anal bleaching tag, but they do end up here) once sent me a link to an adventure dating package. Initially, I was confused. Honestly, my idea of adventure dating is speaking to a man in daylight after he’s accidentally doused me in Starbucks coffee (because why else would he be talking to me).
This was a bit more complicated.
Essentially, the first date involved ropes (I’m finding that’s a big element to all dating in Los Angeles), some carabiners and perhaps a harness. I’d have to rent these items, but I know some of you are now surreptitiously looking under the bed for your own. No judgments. [Oh, who am I kidding? I so judge.] You will then be rappelling down the side of a cliff-kind of thing (technical talk) into a cave or cavern type area. Presumably, you and your date are somehow spotting each other in this endeavor. Perhaps it’s a trust building exercise. Then you explore something.
I have trust issues and intestinal difficulty during times of stress. So, while to some people, this date would seem like an ideal way to get to know someone in a perfectly legitimate and safe way, this is what I hear:
Some strange man is going to come to your apartment. He’s going to tell you to get into his car, although you know better than to do that. He has ropes in his car. He menacingly tells you that those ropes are for you. He will then drive you to the desert without another soul in sight, throw you off a cliff-face, while you desperately cling to some twine that you hope holds your Häagen-Dazs enhanced weight. Then if you survive that, your reward is being trapped at the bottom of a crevice, with no cell signal, while the strange man who threw you down there, joins you. And there’s no bathroom.
Keep those suggestions coming, though.