I'm a socially awkward dork (I can be really awkward at first) who has an almost unhealthy obsession with Disney.
In short turn, I soon realized that if I wanted to meet guys in Alaska, all I had to do was go outside.While it’s no longer true that there are more men than women in Alaska by a ratio of two-to-one, the skewed gender ratio might have played a small part in the fact that I was able to pull so much.He had a hot tub and the kind of marijuana addiction that made him tack brightly colored carpet samples to a wall because he wanted something “cool” to look at while he was high.I didn’t mind floating around a little stoned, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to talk about flooring for more than 60 days.I went on a hike with Scott, who asked me out because he liked the book I was reading one night while I had dinner alone in a restaurant.
I found out he was cheating on me with a woman who did reiki, and I’ve never felt better about punching a man right in the face.
By the time I moved to Alaska, I had been in a relationship without ever having been on a date.
At first, I couldn’t process the amount of attention I was getting in Alaska.
Some of the guys who approached me were goblins; I regularly turned down the five-fingered grandpa — that’s five fingers total — who constantly asked me for a blow job whenever I drank at a particular downtown bar, and I practically ran away from a man who had the stringy baldness of a young Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show when he sidled up and asked me if I had any communicable diseases as his opening line.
But most of them were just genuine guys trying their luck, which encouraged me to try my luck, too.
It was isolating at times, and I definitely listened to Grant Lee Buffalo’s “Happiness” on repeat in my driveway one night while crying into a large pizza for one, but when everyone you know lives 3,000 miles away, you can really amp up the dormant part of your hedonistic tendencies.