By: A hopeless romantic

Day 1:

I picked up climbing because I want to make more queer friends. Starting as a total newbie at the activity will be fun. I want someone to show me how it’s done!

Day 2:

The girl at the front desk is literally a dream come true. She gave me some advice about climbing — but what really got my heart racing wasn’t the steep climb ahead, it was her smile. Her delicate ear piercings framed her perfect face like a halo. I probably didn’t have a chance with her, but I was happy to see her regardless.

She showed me how to shimmy up the problem and she was so graceful I was fully enchanted. “All yours now,” she said, gesturing up the climb.

Day 3: 

I asked her if the white Jeep out front was hers. She said yes, but then said, “Me and my boy go up to Squamish from time to time. I just got it. Super spacious for packing all our gear.” BOY? Is there a Mr. Climbing Girl of my Dreams?! I didn’t know how to ask that, so instead I tried to suss out if the Jeep was manual. She said it was. Her dad taught her, and I should get someone to teach me how. I asked if she would, prompting her to quip back that lessons aren’t included with my membership.  

Day 4:

Dream Girl noticed my nubby nails when I scanned in today. “Keeps us climbers humble.” US? Is there an US?! She asked how my new callouses were going, and before I could show her, she grabbed my hand to take a peek. My heart skipped a beat. She called over to a coworker and asked him to bring a file from the display. Instead he tossed two. He beamed when she caught it. “Keep the spare for the next Squamish trip. We’ll definitely want it when away from civilization.” So . . . these two climb . . . together . . . 

Day 5: 

Today she was wearing a sweater with holes in the knit. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” I said. Totally a coincidence, but I can’t lie that it feels like fate when she rolls up her sleeve. She has the same tattoo I’ve wanted for years, but was always too indecisive to actually get. I told her, and she said it was a pretty basic design, but she’s flattered. I don’t know how to make it more obvious I want . . . to be with her. 

She quickly asked me if I heard Dean Brody’s latest work. Apparently he’s some country singer? Fuck. I’m losing her . . . there’s no way she’s a lesbian. 

Day 6: 

A week of pining must make us friends now? I asked her to go for a matcha before my climb tomorrow. Throughout my climb, I could see her catching glimpses at me. When I returned my shoes, she agreed. 

Day 7: 

“So, I’m glad we’re doing a hangout. You’re a chill friend,” I told her with my usual sparkly eyes. 

She looked at me blankly. “What do you mean . . . hangout? This isn’t a date?”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Turns out she is queer . . . and her “boy” was actually her “bro.”