Adding another outdoor activity to my list of loves this winter has been great. Snowboarding is challenging, athletic, and fun. Thanks to the wonder of man-made snow, I can go to any number of “resorts” here in the Metro Detroit area whether the winter weather has been cooperating or not. I can go on a weeknight for a fun break, or spend a weekend day enjoying it and working on improving my skills.

It has become though another activity that I do mostly alone. Unlike mountain biking, which I have a few reliable friends that I can enjoy it with, I have far fewer friends who ski or snowboard (at least that live in the area). And the strange thing about snowboarding for me is that when I’m out there, I’m surrounded by people, but I’m still alone. I look at the couples and groups of friends enjoying each other’s company and I envy them. When I’m mountain biking by myself, I am usually fairly alone in the woods. True solitude.

I started thinking about this today because I have been trying to put together a little trip up north to one of the larger resorts with some friends from work, and it hasn’t been going that well. One key person can’t get away from other obligations. And today another one of those people who I’d been bugging about nailing down a date mentioned to the team that they would be out Monday and Tuesday because they were… taking the family to Boyne, one of the resorts up north.

I’m used to being the 3rd or the 5th or the 7th wheel when hanging out with others, and I can only imagine that sometimes that comes off as a little weird. I’ve never been a part of a family unit with a single adult friend as a travel companion, so I just don’t know. Hearing that this person and their family were going up north and I had been asking about doing just that for weeks did make me feel a little sad. I’m used to it, and I understand wanting to enjoy a weekend with just your family, but still.

It did remind me that I am alone. An undrafted free agent. And this was not the first time this kind of situation has come up. Just this week, another work friend told me about going to one of the local resorts and having a great day with the fam. It would have been fun to join, but I have to remind myself that no one owes me any of their time. Friendships don’t come with contracts.

I’ve traveled by myself, I run, hike, walk, kayak, bike, and snowboard alone. Most of the time, I’m thankful that I am independent and strong enough to pursue joy by myself in whatever form it takes. I’ve gone to concerts, had nice dinners, and gone on vacation as a party of one. I have such freedom! There is always the nagging sadness though that I do this because I have no other choice. Sit at home, or experience life alone.

I’ve made great progress in therapy recently, I think, but these situations and reminders lead me down a dark path. For all the great I think I am, for all I believe I bring to the table, I am no one’s favorite person. I don’t have a “ride or die” and I’m not that person for anyone else. I am my own shoulder to lean on, my own best companion. And it’s tiring. When all I need is a hug, there are none. I must draw myself up, and push through. There is no collapsing. No refuge in another.

Make no mistake: I am not alone because I prefer it. I try to embrace the pros of complete independence because this is how my life is. But I would choose to trade that complete independence for a person who improves my life any day of the week. I don’t have him yet though.

It hurts to be excluded from activities that it’s well known that I love, no matter the reason. Everything is more fun with friends. And no matter how confident I am in myself, there is always a part of me completely lacking in confidence, and she immediately asks why I’m not invited.

Thinking possibly that I could find someone to enjoy things with, I did finally try online “dating”, and I lasted a whole 19 days. I signed up for three: Bumble, Hinge, and Match. If I had to sum up the experience, I’d go with: boring. I’ve had a far better time browsing through last season’s Target mailing. I wouldn’t call it online “dating”, I’d call it online “browsing”. Like wasting time on Pinterest, or window shopping on Wayfair. And I found no one of interest.

These are not the dudes I’m looking for.

Is “binge-watching” really a personality-defining activity? Cooking, dining out, relaxing…. really? These are the only highlights of your life you felt were worth sharing? Why not add breathing and sleeping to your favorite activity list? I do realize that attempting to meet a new person during a global pandemic is probably the worst time ever to make my first attempt. But, the outdoors is still open. I talked to one guy whose answer to my question of “What do you do for fun during the winter?” was “Stay inside and wait for summer?” No thank you. I’m not looking to “settle down”; I don’t plan to settle at all. I’m looking to “adventure up”.

It took about two weeks for it to become a burden when I got a notification that a guy had messaged me. It was this fella who finally made me realize I didn’t want to deal with the whole scene.

This fella evidently felt I owed him a reply. I don’t. I messaged guys I never heard back from. Move on. But it made me realize that finding a new friend or boyfriend is not important enough right now for me to put in the work that I hear is required to find a diamond in this rough (Side note: why is it expected that you have to sort through a thousand frogs to meet a prince? That sounds like bullshit). So I paused them all. And it was a relief right away.

I realize that this ties directly into not scoring an invite to enjoy a day of skiing and boarding with a work friend with or without their family. They don’t owe me an invite just because they know that I enjoy that activity too. And I’m not obligated to invite them when I go.

Every choice I’ve made in my life has brought me to this point. I’m unattached and do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. The downside of that is that I very often don’t enjoy companionship while I’m out doing.

Still, I continue to live by two mantras:

Anything can happen. Maybe one day, while I’m out there doing, I’ll meet a person doing the same, and then we’ll end up doing the thing (and maybe other things) together.

Nothing meant for me shall pass. If that person for me is out there, I will meet them (but no guarantees on when).

I told myself I was going to go up north in February and enjoy one of the resorts up there. It’s looking like I’ll be doing that on my own, as usual. I’d prefer to do it with friends, but I’d also rather do it alone than not at all. I will continue to be a person who is strong enough to live and enjoy life without depending on others, while hoping that one day I won’t have to.

Post-Script: On Confidence and the Color Yellow

I used to spend a great deal of time wondering what was wrong with me. I cried many, many tears, thinking if I was more like someone else, and less like me, I might be loved. Why didn’t I get hit on in bars like my friends? Why didn’t I get asked out? Why didn’t I have a boyfriend? It was obviously my fault; something wrong with me that I couldn’t see, that nobody was telling me about. Like a secret that all the men knew but refused to let me in on so I could fix it. I thought a lot about dying.

Between years lived, experience, hard work, and therapy, I mostly do no do that anymore. I don’t have the face of Grace Kelly, fair and blue-eyed, sleekly blonde and beautiful, I have my face, which is nice too. I have my naturally curly brown hair, my athletic build, and substantial frame. It’s so easy to compare myself to others who fit my ideals. But I’m sure even Grace Kelly looked in the mirror sometimes and thought “ugh”. I work with what I have. I try to take care of my body, tame my crazy hair. I am working on the parts of me that I feel could be improved (like my self-worth and tendency to judge, lack of patience, and how kind I sometimes am not). And that’s all I can do. I’m not going to hide from cameras or avoid going out because I think my butt is too, like, out there. I am 100% unique and original, and nobody can be me better than me.

Now, when I wonder why affection isn’t returned, or a friendship is out of balance on the “who likes/needs who more” scale, or I don’t get invited to that ski weekend, I don’t immediately tell myself that there is something wrong with me and ruminate on it. Not that doubt doesn’t exist, I just don’t let it take over. There isn’t anything wrong with me. Which brings me to the color yellow.

I don’t particularly care for yellow. It works great on flowers and some birds, but I don’t have much of it in my wardrobe. And that is not the color yellow’s fault. A lot of people love that color. They wear it, they paint their walls that color, it’s everywhere for them and makes them feel good. I love crimson. Brick Red is my favorite crayon and has been since I can remember. That is just my preference.

I am not yellow. I am crimson. Both are valuable, both have fans, both have detractors. I am 45 and intend to spend the rest of my life seeking joy, excitement, people who make my day better, and value in my actions. If I am not someone’s cup of tea, it’s okay. I may be exactly the cup someone else was looking for.

And I am confident in that.