I couldn’t fall asleep after Pecky Bird had left so I started my day early. I packed up, dropped the key in the box, witnessed a couple of raccoons attempting to steal some food from someone’s car then walked past a snowman with some pinecone buttons. I hitched a ride towards Reno, NV where I would be visiting my friend Donuts. Last I saw him was in New Zealand where I met him on the tail end trip of the TA.
As always in mountain towns, it was easy hitching. I got a ride from a sweet older Asian man who was visiting family out in Reno. He offered to give me a ride straight to my destination.
I felt silly around him, dancing in my seat to my own beats while I pointed out flocks of birds that looked like bats. He looked at me in complete disbelief that I was hitchhiking alone.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Chicago.”
“Wow you really like living on the edge, don’t you? There wasn’t enough gun fire in Chicago for you?!”
I laughed at his perception because Tahoe was one of the places I felt safest.
I looked around at all the fresh white snow and cars parked at trailheads full of people about to hit the trails.
“People are hiking?!” I exclaimed. “In the snow?!”
He looked at me. “What the fuck are you on, woman?! I just picked you up as you were hiking in the snow!”
We drove past people carrying their ski equipment. I kept forgetting that winter was already here.
He dropped me off at Donut’s place. It was so weird seeing a thru-hiker with a big house and clean clothes.
“Living in luxury,” I said as I gave him a hug.
Before I came out, he made it clear that he didn’t want to hook up if I would be writing about him. I also made it clear that everything was on the record and that I would most definitely be writing about it. I visited him regardless since I genuinely appreciated our relationship beyond a sexual act. Plus, it actually felt nice to know I didn’t have to behave a certain way or be expected to perform.
He made me coffee but I didn’t drink it because he didn’t have milk. I asked if we could go out for french toast. He got fake mad at me for being so picky.
“How are you a worldwide traveler but so picky?”
“I always find what I need,” I laughed.
He took me out to eat then we did a small hike towards Peavine Peak. We talked about relationships, personality types and travel. He had a theory people were so triggered by my lifestyle because it was so out there and different from the mainstream. He also offered his perspective on why my lovers grew so attached despite barely knowing me.
“I feel like you’re a love-bomber,” he said. We agreed how uncool it was to lead people on super hard then take that away from them. “It’s equivalent to drugs—love drugs.”
I could see how it appeared that way, especially when I misused that power for malicious intent. Nowadays, it’s what feels natural to me. I seem to be clingy when I’m interested in someone. I want to kiss and grab and kiss some more. It is my way of showing love. I only leave so suddenly because I’m scared to prophesize that the end may be near. I can’t seem to handle the thought of someone getting sick of me for being too much.
Then he brought up politics, seemingly upset about the turn of the election.
I tried comforting him and said, “There was a point in my life where I was upset over the last president and felt scared just the same. So, I just didn’t give it my attention. Instead, I went backpacking across the country. By the time I knew it, someone new was elected.”
Overall though, I didn’t really care that much. It was only small moments in time where I felt scared. Most of the time I just found the president humorous and entertaining because I knew none of it was actually real.
“It helps when you remember that you’re only dreaming,” I added.
“Well it’s partially a dream but it’s also real,” he said.
I didn’t say anything, instead acknowledging to myself nothing on this plane could possibly be real.
He continued with the topic of Trump being a terrible president, saying I should be scared because of the reasons he listed.
“I feel as if you either don’t care or you don’t see the severity of the situation,” he said.
“I don’t care,” I confirmed, “and I’m not worried about it.”
I knew whatever unfolded was perfect, no need to stress about it. Acknowledging it was only a dream gave way to understanding that none of its contents were true.
The subject was dropped, then we went out for dinner. Afterwards, he walked us to a dessert place where he treated me to a thick warm cookie. When we were walking back to his van, a car came to a quick stop to let us cross the main road. I munched on my cookie in delight when suddenly the car that had stopped got rear ended right in front of us. Donuts quickly yelled for me to run forward while he took a step back. The car just barely missed me. I licked the chocolate off my fingers as we continued on and drove home.
We cuddled up on the couch while he put on some tunes. I ended up crashing out nearly right away, eventually sleepily walking myself to my bedroom. I really wanted to snuggle with him overnight however he never came over. I woke up in intervals of deep upset and a feeling of abandonment when my conscious mind recognized I didn’t have a warm body next to me. I remember experiencing that same sense when I was a child having slept over in my parents bed overnight. The same sense of abandonment would rush over me and I would panic, having convinced myself that someone I loved had suddenly left me. The weird part was they never truly left. They were either sipping on coffee or making breakfast in the next room over. I still don’t know why my thoughts ever spiraled out in such a way.
