One thing I want to say in regards to my take on life is that I’m sort of hardcore.
(sort of hardcore.)
Actually, maybe saying I’m Extreme is a better way to phrase it. It seems that walking that fine line down the middle of the road has always seemed a touch lame, a bit too boring, positively plebian. So, I have tried to find different ways to make life seem exciting, which can sometimes mean going to certain hardcore extremes.
I’m talking about cutting off all of my hair in a fit of hot rebellion when I was 18, or traveling the world for years when I should be getting a job or something ridiculous. I’m referring to meeting strangers like I’ve known them my whole life, and singing karaoke with more panache than Madonna.
I’ll like to call it a “balls to the wall” type attitude, but really, it’s just me.
And in reflecting upon my last 10 days and how to write about the experiences had during the bookend weekends, I realized the insane sense of extreme I had taken and found it fairly hilarious. I mean, at least I’m consistent.
So, I guess we should talk about Tahoe first.
When I tried to explain to my husband what I was doing going to Tahoe with 18 women for 3 days, knowing only 3 of them, to drink, gossip, hike, hot tub, and be utterly ridiculous, there was definitely a bit of “huh?” response, which I expected. I mean seriously, 18 women in a three bedroom lodge for days on end with limitless supplies of food (heavy on the cheese, heavy on all the cheese) and booze, and with women whom I had never MET – the best way I could described it was, “this is going to be a shit show”.
This all started about a year ago when I was invited to be a member of a women’s group (like fight club, I’m not going to talk too much about it…) where around 40 ladies of all different walks of life could meet on the web together and talk.
Or bitch a lot.
But also share. And comfort. Give advice, tell jokes, ponder the universe, and ask the type of ridiculous questions you can’t actually ask other people because of how bizarre/frightening/psychotic you’ll sound.
Even though I wasn’t a hardcore member (ie: not posting every day, 10 times a day), it was a fun place to find oneself to merely realize that all women have common issues that they deal with in their everyday lives, and that having a sense of camaraderie through sharing such experiences is sort of life changing. No one judging (the ones that did were removed), no mean quips tossed around about each other, just a place to come where women support women without snarky bullshit and feel free to be themselves.
But I honestly thought that since all of our interaction was online, OF COURSE these chicks weren’t as cool or “with it” as they appeared. And when the idea of meeting in Tahoe so we could actually SEE and TOUCH a live person (that sounds not like I mean it…) surfaced, it seemed like (again) it was going to be an absolute mess. And I was a little bit frightened.
Because, to be fair, most women are bitches to other women.
My girlfriends are amazing and I’d be almost NOTHING without them, but as a female, I know that ladies are tougher on each other than they are on men. (Men, you still do amazingly stupid shit and we complain dramatically about you daily, don’t forget). So I really was starting to fear the worst as the trip approached.
Heading up a Thursday evening, I imagined returning home the next day, recanting the events to my person with highlights of hair pulling, negative Nancy-isms, catty behavior, cliques, disapproving tisks, and whatever else can happen when that many XX chromosomes are together in captivity.
But oooooooooooohhhh, was I wrong.
It was epic. E.P.I.C.
Not only were these the coolest, most amazing women that had been pulled together, we really did feel like meeting each other was merely the cherry on top of already “knowing” each other. Sharing so much already online, it was like we began to know the nuances of each persons’ character, their likes and dislikes, their family lives, their personal selves. And getting to introduce yourself to someone new to your eyes, but old to your soul, was a full circle moment.
And there were tears.
And there was screaming.
But the tears were of the truest joy, and the screams were those of excitement and support.
To say that the 8 hours spent hottubbing on the Friday I thought I’d be returning home, chatting/laughing/crying/sharing/shinaginning weren’t some of the most fun moments I’ve had in a long time, would be a BOLD FACED lie.
And as a woman, I don’t need to tell fables.
And so were all of these ladies.
So, when I ended up spending the next weekend with another huge group of women, this second experience couldn’t have been MORE different to the first.
(end of part 1)