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I emerged in my thirties to the same small-town dating scene of my twenties and found it no longer fit what I was looking for. I like to have money in my bank account and an adult home, and I tend to choose a nice bottle of wine over a night at the bar these days. I chase winter, but I put down roots where I land instead of blowing through in a hedonistic storm. But when the pool of single men is notoriously overcrowded with Peter Pans and year-old ski bums, the search for a mature, healthy relationship starts to resemble a quest for the holy grail.
And so I set out on my quest in ski towns across the world in search of real romance. These are my dating dispatches from a year traveling through three different mountain locales.
We were well into acquainting ourselves on the slow ascent when the lift lurched and stopped abruptly. As we hung there for 45 minutes, waiting for our death-defying rappel rescue by the ski patrol, we talked about work, passions, and life goals.
The Outcome: Bachelor 1 and I dated for several months. Over the course of this relationship, I became deeply familiar with the iconic commitment-phobia of lifelong ski bums. I ended it in favor of finding someone for whom I would be a priority and in favor of chasing winter. The Scene: I left Missoula in the spring of to chase winter in New Zealand and landed in the paradise that is Wanaka. In the spirit of adventure, I decided to try dating apps for the first time.
