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At the lodge, I met a British guy named Cameron. He was tall, lean and had a thick accent. He sported strands of grey throughout his hair and facial beard. He was a cyclist, biking as much of the Continental Divide as he could until his visa expired. He would come back next year to finish the rest.
We both really wanted to spend another night to be out of the rain, however the lodge got fully booked out by a family. He asked if I wanted to split a room with him at a hotel and I said yes! He continues, “You probably want your own space since there might only be one bed.” I told him I did not mind in the slightest.
I always found it immensely attractive when a guy gave me the option to sleep separately even though we both knew I was interested in him. I often felt turned off when a guy expected sex from me. No matter how attracted I was to him at first, it would automatically ruin it for me.
So, we got a room booked and started packing our stuff. I asked if he wanted to have my bear spray before I put it in the hiker box. He said he kind of wanted to shoot it off, so we went outside and sprayed it. It was downwind so the mist hit us and we started coughing atrociously. Our eyes stung red. We cried for half an hour and agreed, “Yeah, that was stupid.”
We rode the hostel bikes around town and went to the library for a few hours. Then, we went to the hotel room and immediately started watching It’s Always Sunny. I naturally got all cuddly and placed my legs over his. He was very mindful of his movements, how he handled me, where he placed his hands and the overall way he made me feel.
Afterwards, we went out to the Wind River Brewing Company for a burger. I absolutely adored our waitress. I told her she looked like a replica of Phoebe Buffay from Friends. She had a similar face paired with the ditsy/hippie personality. She said she got that a lot and fit the part because she even knew how to play “Smelly Cat” on her guitar.
She looked to be in her thirties—magnetic, energetic and theatrical in her nature. Her mannerisms were sporadic and spontaneous as she moved around effortlessly from table to table. It seemed everyone wanted to know her—to be her friend—making those around her feel so loved in her presence. She wore a full smile and her braids were messy like that of a child. I could write poetry about her alone.