Why I Refuse To Sleep Inside Of An Enclosed Umbrella

So a guy I’ve been dating has been trying to get me to go camping with him. I do believe you all know my feelings on camping by now. Referenced here. And Here. And yet again, here.

I go to great lengths to avoid anything that involves actual camping. In fact, in our house, camping looks like this:



Garage S'mores over a can of sterno. Urban style, That also just so happens to be Mr. Nutcase Neighbor

So anyways, this whole camping thing has become a regular conversation around here with this (overly persistent) guy. Today it comes to a head, and this is pretty much how the conversation goes;

It starts with him saying “Baby, come on, I really want to go camping. Please will you go with me?”

To which I sort of whine out “Dude. We don’t need to do EVERYTHING together. It’s ok to have our own hobbies. Babe, I just don’t want to sleep outside, in a tent, which is essentially an enclosed umbrella.”

In his own distinctively whiney voice, he says “But I want to go WITH you. I have more fun when I’m with you. I know how weird you are about your food, so I won't even make you eat anything that I caught in the lake.”

"Are you going to make me eat anything that has been living in a cooler for longer then 12 hours?" I ask him.
He is not smiling.

So I ask him in a playful, yet somewhat antagonistic voice, "Can I live off of dorito's and candy for the entire trip and you can eat gutted fish with hidden bones and hotdogs that are clinging to life on their third day in the cooler?"

Still no smiling.

“Ugh. Babe. I have no problem going to the camping place with you,” I say. (He interrupts me with "It's called a campsite. Campsite." Ok, whatever. The place where you set up camp. (Thank you grammar police, for pointing that out to me, as I'm sure my grammatical error could have changed the course of this entire conversation.) “We can hike and kick around some dirt and do whatever you want to do, but when it comes time to go to sleep, I would like that to be in a bed. How about we like go to one of those lodges that’s like IN the forest preserve? We can wake up early and hang out outside until we can't stay awake anymore and then you can sleep outside in your enclosed umbrella, and I’ll watch you from the window of my hotel room and make sure that you’re safe? I would totally do that for you. I got your back.” I flash him my most innocent smile with raised eyebrows as if to say "Good plan, right? Am I right?"

Still not smiling and obviously completely un amused, he replies in a somewhat short tone of voice, “So let me get this straight. You want to sleep, in a hotel, several stories above me, so that you can watch my tent, and make sure that no bears eat me?”

Yep, that sounds about right.

So I decide to try a different tactic. “Ok, so let me put this in terms you might understand. I need showers. Showers are a must. Like what if I want to make out with your body and you are all sweaty? Like not just sex sweaty, but like ACTUALLY sweaty? Gross. That isn’t going to work for me. Can’t we just like stay in a lodge in the middle of Yellowstone or something? I’ll even agree to turn the TV down really low and open a window, providing that there is a screen of course. We can even turn the air conditioning way up, snuggle under the covers, and PRETEND like we are outside.”

Again with the no smiling, he says in a totally flat tone, “I want to go in July. Why would it be cold outside in July.”

“It’s pretend camping dude! It can be whatever the hell season we want to pretend it is! If we pretend that it's winter, we can do the whole s’mores in the microwave and hot chocolate under the covers thing. If we pretend it’s July, then what are we going to do? Apply bug spray to each other and call it foreplay? Cuz in that case, let’s just actually apply sunscreen and go to the beach.”

Still not smiling, he says “You realize you sound crazy, right?”

Somewhat smiling I say, “You realize I AM crazy, right?”

He sort of huffs and says “You really aren’t going to budge on this camping thing, are you?”

“Come on babe” I say, my tone now changing in irritation. “Have I ever said no to anything you have ever wanted to do? Didn’t I scream my head off at the baseball game with you and pull my weight at sports trivia night? Didn't I help you lay insulation in the attic? Because I can assure you, I did that last one with a smile on my face, but I was most definitely not having fun.”

“Yes and that’s why I don’t understand why you won’t go camping! Camping is FUN!” he says in a sterner than convincing voice. “I’ve seen pictures of your missions trips. I know you showered for a week in an outdoor shower that was made from a tarp and a hose. I know that you spent the majority of those trips FILTHY dirty. So what gives?”

In the Appalachian Mountains

Finally, with no where left to turn and backed against the wall, I have nothing left to say. Nothing except for the truth. “Sleeping under the stars might be fun for you, but for me, it’s not fun. It wasn't fun when I was four and hiding in the front yard bushes. It wasn’t fun when I was 12 and hiding outside from my mom. It wasn’t fun when I was 14, hungry, cold, wet, and sleeping under the awning of a taco bell after running away from home. It wasn’t fun when I was 19 and sleeping under the pedestrian walkway bridge while hoping no one would attack me that night. It wasn’t fun then and I’m not ready to see if it’s fun now.”

His face softening and his voice a bit sweeter this time, he asks me, “hun, won't it be better this time since you know you are safe in my arms?”

I want to trust him, to believe what he is saying, to feel safe in his arms. I want, with all my soul, for him to hold me and tell me that it will all be ok. I want to believe its the truth. I long to know, for once in my life, what it feels like to be protected, to truly feel safe. My body literally aches with the yearning to let my wall down, to be able to give up the burden of fear and defense.  To be able to stop pretending that I don't need anyone, that I can do it all on my own. Its exhausting having to be on guard all the time. I long for that one person that I can trust, for there to be one person in this entire big world, that I know won't hurt me. Please God, give me someone! But as of now, through the fear and the trauma, the pain and the healing, I'm not sure if I've found him yet. Or if I ever will. And that kills me.

So I reply with the only truth that I know. “I’m not ready yet, but I will be smiling, and happy, and excited, to see you when you get back.”

Hopefully, he will be ok with that.

Because when it really comes down to it,

                     I need to be ok,

                                  with being ok,

                                                with the fact that I'm not always ok.

And that is ok.

Photo Credit Bear Sign: http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffon/