Welcome to Tough Love. Every other week, we鈥檙e answering your questions about dating, breakups, and everything in between. Our advice giver is Blair Braverman, dogsled racer and author of .聽Have a question of your own? Write to us at聽toughlove@outsidemag.com.
Q: My boyfriend and I are going on a monthlong thru-hike this summer to celebrate finishing grad school. I鈥檝e been backpacking since I was a little kid, and he鈥檚 barely gone camping, so I鈥檝e taken on most of the planning, which is fine with me. But lately, he has become obsessed with gear. He鈥檚 agonizing over whether his backpack has the right kind of zippers (literally), whether his walking stick is long enough, what kind of whistle to buy, etc. It seems like every week he鈥檚 found some fancy new knickknack that鈥檚 going to make 鈥渁 huge difference鈥 as to whether our trip is successful. Honestly, I鈥檓 getting really bored with hearing about it, but I don鈥檛 want to hurt his feelings. How do I get him to understand that we鈥檒l be just fine with the gear we have?
鈥搁贰滨谤谤颈迟补迟别诲
So what you鈥檙e saying is that your boyfriend is getting into Your Thing, and he鈥檚 picking up from his whole life to do it, but not quite in the way that you like to do it, and it鈥檚 annoying? First up, big kudos to him鈥攁nd you also get points for taking the lead on logistics.
That said, I hear you. Outdoor gear is like sex toys: fun and exciting, but it won鈥檛 add chemistry to a relationship that doesn鈥檛 already have it, and it won鈥檛 make someone, um, good if they haven鈥檛 already taken the time to learn. (Gear can also be expensive, but you didn鈥檛 mention that as a stressor, so I鈥檓 guessing it鈥檚 not a matter of him blowing your thru-hike budget before you鈥檝e filled your first bag at Dick鈥檚.) Because you鈥檝e been backpacking since childhood, I鈥檓 assuming you鈥檇 be confident crossing the country in old sneakers and thrift-store wool sweaters. And I鈥檓 guessing鈥攐r projecting鈥攖hat you鈥檙e kinda proud of that.
Let鈥檚 call this what it is: garden-variety insecurity on his part (and possibly yours). Your boy鈥檚 nervous about the trip and looking for a way to engage and feel confident. That鈥檚 all. Gear is cool and interesting and gives him something to focus on or talk about when people ask him about the trip. Maybe that annoys you, but you have to shake that off, because you鈥檒l be dealing with each other鈥檚 insecurities a lot over the next 1,000 miles, and now is the time to start cutting each other some slack. Your guy wants to contribute, and maybe you鈥檙e not making space for him to do it in his own way. Maybe he鈥檚 losing little bits of himself to fit in during your Big Wilderness 国产吃瓜黑料. If you love this guy and you want to be together鈥攁nd if you want him to fall in love with the outdoors鈥攜ou鈥檝e got to take ownership of the ways you鈥檙e pushing him out.
If you鈥檙e a woman, you also have to acknowledge that your guy, woke as he may be, could be struggling against a buttload of cultural assumptions about how he should be the leader-protector-provider鈥攁nd that by joining you outdoors and stepping out of any position of relative authority, he鈥檚 already taking some big steps to clear himself of that baggage. That鈥檚 archaic, sure, but it鈥檚 also probably real for him in ways you don鈥檛 even realize. Here鈥檚 a chance for you to assess your own biases as well. Is there some part of you that鈥檚 turned off by seeing your man so visibly uncertain? No? Good. But if that question stings鈥攅ven a little鈥攖ake some time to process that and get it out of your system.
So here鈥檚 what you do: Sit down together, make a list of everything that still needs to be done for the trip, and divide up responsibilities. Does someone need to be in charge of maps and navigation? First aid? Preparing meals? What are his hobbies, and how could they be useful on the trail? Find some things that you have genuinely less experience in, and that he鈥檚 interested in, and agree that he鈥檚 in charge of some researching and planning. Remember that this isn鈥檛 him coming on your trip鈥攊t鈥檚 the two of you traveling together, which is a big ol鈥 metaphor for your lives off the trail. From now on, when he tells you about what he鈥檚 learning, you鈥檙e going to be open and grateful and trust him. Learn together. And if, after all this, he鈥檚 still geeking out over gear and new toys? and learn to play along.
Q: What advice would you give to (queer) women camping alone or in pairs? More than once, I have felt uncomfortable and/or threatened while camping with my partner in the Northwoods. Once, while car camping, an 鈥渙verly friendly鈥 male neighbor insisted on entering our campsite after dark. He was clearly inebriated and acting aggressive. We felt sexually unsafe. Another time, my girlfriend and I found an 鈥淴鈥 slashed into our tent upon returning to our rural site from a day hike. I love the woods, but I鈥檓 hyperaware of standing out.
鈥擣eeling Exposed
Full disclosure: a friend sent me this question via Facebook as part of a thread that included several of my neighbors in the Wisconsin Northwoods. I live in a libertarian-leaning town of 500 people, one gas station, and no grocery store. By the end of the day, I started hearing reports from the nearest bar: the locals were furious. They had heard about the question and were slamming their drinks on the counter. They thought it was bullshit. Anyone who鈥檇 harass someone else in the outdoors was the lowest of the low, they agreed. Everyone should be able to feel safe camping. They were unanimous: safety in the woods鈥攆rom other people, at least鈥攊s a human right.
I hate that these things happened to you and your beloved. I hate that you were threatened, that the integrity of your space and body were put at risk, that . I could give you , but I suspect you already know them all: tell friends where you鈥檙e going, don鈥檛 give personal information to strangers, bring a dog, carry an air horn. The bar-goers suggested carrying a weapon, be it a knife or a gun or a two-by-four with rusty nails stuck through the end. But only you can know whether the responsibility of bringing a weapon will make you feel more or less safe.
For a while, after a man threatened me while I was backpacking, I thought a weapon would help my confidence. For two months, I carried a heavy-duty stun gun. It weighed about three pounds but felt much heavier; I was aware of it each time I lifted my pack, dug out my mess kit, or turned off my headlamp at night. The stun gun required a case and a charger and a constant stream of emotional energy, and I resented the endless reminder of what felt like my own fragility. Now I wear a knife on my belt instead. I use it for opening snacks.
The great irony of going into the wilderness in a vulnerable body鈥攂e it female, queer, brown, etc.鈥攊s that danger comes from other people, but it鈥檚 the overall lack of people that makes that threat feel so visceral. The wilderness literalizes the sense of isolation that comes with the threat of sexual or gender violence. Statistically, you鈥檙e in no greater danger while camping than you are walking down a city street. But wilderness distills your life into every present moment. And when you live in a vulnerable body, that feeling is also distilled.
The fact that the presence of you and your beloved in the Northwoods is remarkable鈥攖hat strangers feel entitled to remark on it鈥攊s a constant suggestion that you might not belong, that this isn鈥檛 your place. So let me promise you this, something I know in the very deepest parts of my heart: you belong in the woods. You belong camped under the trees, wading in the chill water, watching the birds of prey. You belong with the treasures, leaves and rocks and tracks, that you find in every direction. You do. The woods are yours.
Q: Is my outdoorsy proposal plan a clich茅?
Yes. And it鈥檚 perfect.
Your turn鈥攁sk away at聽toughlove@outsidemag.com.