For the last few months I have been making a conscious effort to actually go to things I’ve been invited to. Get out and actually do things. Most people who know me know that they can invite, but chances are, I’m not gonna make it. Has nothing to do with the event or who asked me…I’m just often too stuck in my head to enjoy most things. It takes effort. I can be there…and not really be there. If that makes sense. So, I just don’t go.

But I get invited to this “Last minute birthday party campout”; and I’m like, eh, I’ll go.

I don’t really know the woman that invited me. Just met her once. Outside of that there’s been brief discussions online, but that’s it. Running the threads. Typical banter. Nothing more.

So I see this “Event” notification pop up for it and then I start seeing the “going” list and realize in short order…there are nine women going and so far I’m the only guy. Not only that, but over half the names on that list I recognize from the threads of women that are on the far Left of the political spectrum, and based on past exchanges, I’d say I had a solid chance of them truly hating me.

I messaged my friend and was like…”Eh, you sure this is a good idea?…’cause I’m looking at this guest list an thinkin I may be shanked”. But, she said it would be fine and I figured, what a way ta die, aye?

The first night there were only five, maybe six women there, I think? But it was fine. Introductions were made and I felt pretty accepted.

The camping was different than what I’m used to. Camping with women, in general, is different. But when you’re camping with a buncha hippy women it’s different with a bit of a twist. For instance…you can put your lanterns away…’cause they aint gonna use them. They bring these solar lights in jars that they put up everywhere; and small little rope lights, that they hang from trees. They hang up blankets and table cloths…for decoration. They had a “dish washing station” and a “cooking station”. Which scoobied me a bit, but I jus went along with it, and did what I was told. They even had desert.

The conversation was different too. Women are very…complementary of each other.  I sat and watched how they interacted with each other. Lots of “I love you”, “You’re beautiful”, “You’re so sweet”, etc. Then of course, me being me, I’m like, “So…when you go out at night or go out alone to places do you ever feel afraid of being raped or assaulted”? (I know! I knooooow!…but I literally had a group of women all together at once and I had questions!)

Then I sat back and listened to them talk about some of the experiences they had. How one womans sister was kidnapped and brutally murdered. How one woman had to use duct tape to restrain someone. I’ve never had to worry about being raped if I passed out; but they did.  I wasn’t simply reading these responses in an article or from a news clip…I was hearing it first hand. 

Second day, more women showed up and a few guys. One of which was a Conservative. I got a quick headsup when he arrived, “Hey, so n so is here, looks like you’re not the only conservative anymore!” He stepped out of his truck, he gave me a head nod, I nodded back. Later I leaned in and asked, “So, you think the election was totally stolen, Trump won, and the shit going on in this country right now is nothing to celebrate because we’re witnessing the demise of the USA”? He immediately laughed and replied, “Yup!”; then went into some of things he thought about it.

When one of the “new” women showed up I was pouring myself some Jack. She immediately looks as me and says, “Oh Jack! Well as long as it doesn’t make you angry!”. I later pulled one of the other women aside and told her what she had said, then asked, “Other women were getting themselves a drink the same time I was…did she bother to say that to them? No. Of course not – ’cause Ima guy; and guys are known to get angry when they drink”. I simply told her I don’t get angry when I’m drinkin…but I have been known ta throw out a few I love you, maaaans! (So, stereotypes exist; and they exist based on past experiences or traumas. You can’t ignore them; but you should at least attempt to understand the why they exist…and react accordingly. Don’t get angry about them…just offer an alternative.)

Now, I got this rule…what you choose to do is your business; I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me. The moment your shit gets on my shit…we gonna have problems. So, there were a lot of drugs there. A lot ta me, anyway. And on more than one occasion I was offered some. All of which was met with a “No thanks, I’m good”. I don’t mind the offer; what I mind is the shit you sometimes get if you don’t take it, and that wasn’t a thing there. Which is good. People were smoking their weed, dropping their acid, eating their “gummies” and I drank my Jack and smoked an occasional cigar.

What was interesting to me was…no one thought anything of it. It was offered as if it was a cigarette or a piece of gum. They draw no distinction between them. It was “Normal”. What was “abnormal” was – me. My declination. At one point I was tossed a container that held “gummies” and I passed them along. The guy next ta me asked, “What is it?”; I said I dunno, never seen that before. He opened the container. “Oh, they’re gummies!…you’ve never had them”? Ima like, “Nope”. That answer seemed to scooby him a bit, ’cause he looked at me and said, “Never”?! Ima like…”Nope, never”. Then he’s like…”Wooooow”! That kinda made me laugh. It looked like it sounds.

Hippy women tend to not wear bras and they’ll just take their clothes off and walk thru the creeks wearing nothing but strings in their butts. This is perfectly normal. You’re supposed ta just be all chill about it…and I was…but when I offered her a potato chip to cover up one of her nipples people seemed to think that was funny.

We sang karaoke. Which was harder than I expected. Hippy music doesn’t really have lyrics to it. It’s just like…instrumental; and you just sit an listen to it for hours. So when I was designated “DJ” I was a bit apprehensive on what exactly I was gonna play. But surprisingly people seemed to take to it ok and we sang songs…without the reader screen for the lyrics.

In truth…some things impressed the hell out of me. One woman who was there literally cooked everything for everybody; and she was prepared. That woman knows how ta camp; that was clear. I offered her my typical, “Ya need any help?”, anticipating the typical “No, I’m good thanks”! So I could seem caring but then jus go back to my sitting around the fire and drinking my Jack. Which worked, the first time; the second time I said it she called me on my bluff and I was commissioned to cut onions and tomatoes.

I actually had a good time. It wasn’t what I expected…and I didn’t expect that. There was little talk of politics, albeit a brief discussion about healthcare, the occasional blurp about the evil corporations, and those damn Christians, etc. For the most part…they were just people, being people, dealing with the crap that all of us are. Just people that simply want to be left alone to – be. I was glad ta have went. Glad ta have been included in something that I would have never attended. It’s not a lifestyle I could ever get into on a routine basis; but I felt privileged to be given the opportunity to see behind the veil. I guess hippies aren’t so different afterall.

Copyright©2021 Jacob C. Larson All Rights Reserved

***I’ve purposely not named one person who attended this “campout” in this blog; nor will I be tagging anyone in any of it’s postings. It’s the best anonymity I can provide. “Out” yourself at your own risk! Hopefully, this blog hasn’t offended anyone who so graciously accepted me there. If so, that isn’t my intent. I’m simply relaying the events how I perceived them and I do appreciate being included. So…”Stay moist, my friends!” 🙂