I have two active but free profiles I’d been ignoring since I logged on in Utah last winter and found nothing but very conservative men or guys who were just way too young for me. I logged out and went back to living my life. That meant going to San Francisco and New York City. When I got back from NYC I had over 100 “likes” — I get very few at home. It used to bother me. “No one likes me,” I’d whine at my phone, but now I think, “This is time saving!”
I was curious about that stack of potential matches. In theory I’m not against connecting with someone who’s geographically less suitable but in practice, they’d have to be exceptional — and have reason to be in my city from time to time.
I whittled them down to two.
The first was a natural history scientist. I suspect we matched while I was in Utah where he’d been doing research at the National Park archives. He lives in the Central Time Zone and I’m on Pacific. See above under “reason to be in my city from time to time.” Nice enough guy, but the odds we’ll meet in person hover at below one percent. I’m investing about that level of emotional energy in this prospect.
The second guy is a nature and wildlife photographer. He works for one of those high end safari/adventure travel outfits teaching people how to get their own National Geographic style photos of cheetahs in trees or whales breaching or, I don’t know, portraits of African savannah residents who have changed out of their shorts and favorite t-shirts into tribal attire for the tourists. I found him online, it’s not impossible we have mutual connections.
We chatted about his work, the work I’ve done, and I told him how I’ve dropped all my adventure travel work because the finances don’t pencil. “I hear that,” he replied, “I live in my van between trips.”
I saw this message and sighed so deeply I could feel it in the soles of my feet.
Sometime back I went on a date with a bookshop owner. I asked to use the bathroom in his shop before we went for a walk. It had been cleaned sometime in the 70s, perhaps. I really should have turned around and gone home at that point but I haven’t developed the spine to just walk away in person yet. Nothing but respect for those that walk out the door and don’t look back, but I’m not quite there.
I love a good road trip, probably more than the next person. I am an adventurous traveler. I am not a status obsessed or impressed person. I’ve also spent most of my career self-employed, I’m all for less traditional approaches to navigating our capitalist society.
I also really like indoor plumbing.
If I’d met this guy while on one of my big adventures, it’s possible we’d have hit it off, maybe become friends, maybe had a nice little fling. (It’s equally possible we’d have found each other insufferable, I am not so unselfaware.)
But here, at home? I am not dating #vanlife guy, absolutely not, no way, no how. I am not taking “Can I do my laundry at your place?” questions. I am not letting him park in my driveway. He is not using my shower products, my toaster, my wifi. No. I am not, when he says “I want to cook you dinner,” letting him do that in my kitchen, nor am I folding myself onto his bunk in his van while he messes with the propane. No. No. No.
It took me a hot minute to figure out why I was so bothered by this. I don’t object to a camping. I’ve done my fair share of scrappy living. But he’d buried the lede. (That’s an old journalism phrase for failing to mention the most important part of the story.)
Dude, you need to start with the fact that you live in a van. You’re either embarrassed by it or you know it’s a deal-breaker — why else would you not just introduce yourself as Vanlife Guy? I’m passing zero judgement on this as a way to live (okay, I do have some feelings about it) but it’s … not great that you don’t mention it up front.
I’m not going to date guys who smoke, want kids, vote Republican, golf, post pictures of plates of meat, are married, any number of things. I don’t need to get into the morality of these issues, how I feel about them, all I need to know is that this key part of their existence is not for me.
You. Live. In. A. Van. For the love of god, just fucking tell people that.
Chaser: Classic SNL Van Down by the River