Low Key in the Midnight Sun

We started talking online. Is anyone embarrassed about that anymore?

The dating “game” since the internet has taken over seems a lot more brutal and shady than older generations say things were back in the day. It’s speed-blind-dating with an endless line of “whoa.” We all have our baggage and we all have our methods. I suppose whether or not it works depends what your intentions are.

I have always been a serious dater. On the hunt for THE ONE, weeding my way through the one-nighters, bad choices and game-players.

Skeptic is an understatement when it comes to dating and relationships. It got to be such a hassle that I started what I call “the pre-date.” It’s just a quick meetup before putting in any more effort. Our pre-date was at a neighborhood collection of mailboxes to say hello and shake hands.

He was working as a tow truck driver in Fairbanks, Alaska. It was sometime in July and still daylight at 1am. He stepped out of a loud diesel tow truck, tall, greasy and tired. The bright blue eyes gleaming over a full beard captured me. He was rocking a romantic, working man masculinity that caught my heartbeat.

If I felt twitterpated like this before, I can't remember when. I went home and poured myself a glass of Merlot out of the bottle I had started earlier in the day. We texted well into the morning as I polished off the wine and set a date for the following afternoon.

Being ever-weary of the dangers of the times, we met at a coffee shop, first. He suggested checking out The Museum of the North. No Netflix and chill? No rush for drinks? A museum.

For anyone who hasn’t spent much time in Alaska, people are super-not judgmental about fashion. Practicality rules. Should you attend one of the world-class symphony performances you have the same odds of sitting next to someone in mostly clean Carhartts as you do a person in a tailored suit. This lack of pretentiousness is one of my favorite things about Alaska.

We strolled through the museum, coffees in hand admiring how things were made by the indigenous peoples. He took his time looking in exhibit drawers and commented on the stitching of ancient garments. His grandmother insisted he learned to sew.

There was no rush and no perceived time limit. We thoroughly explored the taxidermy exhibits of Alaska wildlife and fossils of mammoths. He lingered over the crystals and rocks admiring the patterns as I admired him.

After I made a couple purchases for myself in the giftshop we found ourselves back in the parking lot unready to call it a day. There’s a liquor store down across from that coffee shop. Let’s go for a walk and drink.

People expect a certain level of sophistication from me in my profession. The truth of the matter is that I have always avoided ordering wine. Beer, I “get.” I had been trying to figure out the reds after feeling embarrassed at a wine tasting fundraiser I promoted for work. I’ve had Rhine Riesling on a river cruise on the Rhine River, but that’s sweet and easy on the pallet.

He was dressed comfortably in his Carhartts, flannel shirt and baseball cap. I stood out a bit more in a bright red skirt, black boots and black top. We looked entirely out of place together anywhere else on the planet as we both stood there in the liquor store scratching our heads over the wines. He doesn’t know much either, but also spent some time in Germany.

We each selected a bottle of Merlot because that’s what I was trying to work on right then. You know, career needs. This not at all thought-out misadventure in a “classy” impromptu Alaska date did not help me understand any flavor features or nuances about red wines. That needs to be made abundantly clear.

Having no way to chill anything, or even glasses. We drank our Merlots on empty stomachs straight out of the bottles after he had to dig the corks out. Neither of us particularly enjoyed our drinks. There were bits of cork in our mouths after each sip. The social lubricant and comedy of the scene was magic. His stoic face, beard and all, lit up when he smiled.

We walked along the wildlife preserve’s well-groomed trails with Merlot bottles in hand, the sun not setting, laughing at the silliness of wine etiquette. No one in our lives knew any of it, either, and here we are enjoying ourselves anyway.

Reflecting on this, the greatest date ever, I can see how it shared components with other pleasant dating experiences. There was an activity instead of awkward sitting. It was simple, spontaneous and intelligent.

Almost nothing works out perfectly, like not having a corkscrew when you need one. It can still be pretty perfect.

If you enjoyed this read, be sure to check out my other fictions and lifehacks for outdoor how-tos and simple outing ideas.