Camping and dating
There’s the possibility of getting to spoon a hot person.
And don’t forget the campfire smells that mysteriously cling to your clothes long after returning to your tiny urban apartment. We should get extra about the season even before the PSL plague descends.
If adulthood is all about solving problems and navigating unforeseen challenges, camping is inventing a billion more of each.
Do people who like camping know about Wi-Fi and beds?
Off the top of my head, some include: a kickboxing class, mastering the art of weed-infused oil (it’s extremely difficult, IMO), seeing how fast you can mow a neighbor’s lawn (with consent, obvs), sending a dozen thank-you notes for people in your life who deserve it, and unsubscribing from all those Tiny Letter subscriptions you never open.
You do not have to learn about bunions firsthand or eat sandy pancakes for breakfast to know progress.
I need you—A BURLY BRUH WITH A PENIS—to assemble this tent as shelter for the night or I will perish! Reading the part of her Bumble bio that says, “I will not go camping with you,” and craft an opening line about getting coffee or tequila instead.
If you seek growth through discomfort, there’s plenty of other options.
Your date will be impressed that you actually took the time and effort to make the night special and personal.
Being cheap on a date usually isn't a good thing, unless you can justify it.
And, sure, I do believe there are a select few people who authentically enjoy carrying a backpack of Pop Tarts to the top of a pointy tree hill. And congrats on understanding the first definition of “tinder,” and having the ability to hike through a hangover. I urge you all to take solace in the fact there is a much more cozy, constructive alternative to this camping nightmare: cabins.
Ahh, yes, you can even bring a hot person to spoon indoors.