My current boyfriend of four-and-a-half years tells me that snowboarding as a new couple is a recipe for a break up. There’s a reason he’s my current boyfriend and not the boyfriend I’m talking about on this trip.
Five years ago, I first tried snowboarding. Not a “new” couple necessarily, but I was official with the guy I was dating for about five months before he decided we should go snowboarding with his friends.
On the ride there, we were told that, despite having paid the exact same amount of money to rent a condo for the weekend, my boyfriend and I would have to sleep on the floor. Everyone else had a bed—just not us—for a reason that is still unclear to me.
Sleeping on the ground the first night made me a bit stiff for when we set out for the bunny hill the next morning. At least that’s what I thought was our destination, being that I had literally zero experience in snow, let alone shredding the slopes. Instead, my boyfriend decided to head to the advanced slopes and leave me with the three unfriendly girls, all of which have snowboarded before and told me to come on a medium run with them.
“It will be fine. It’s really not that hard.”
Never mind the fact that a boyfriend should be supportive when his girlfriend is scared, or that strangers are typically kind to new people. These people were none of those things, except one kind girl who took pity on my newb-ness.
I locked one foot into my board for the first time. I went up the ski lift for the first time. I face planted for the first time once jumping off.
This is common for first timers, but usually this happens on the bunny slope where onlookers reserve judgment. That didn’t happen here. I boot-scooted my way to the side of the top of the hill and looked down. “That’s a big slope.”
I’m not someone who gives up easily, but getting up on a board is tough work. Once you lock your other foot in, you need to get up from the ground using nothing but ab and leg strength. And when you fall a lot, which you do as a first timer, you need to get up again and again. I was worn out after about 8 minutes.
After a 20 minute lesson, the pity party is over and my “friend” decided it was her time to shine. I was left on the hill alone, trying my damndest, but I just kept falling on my face, then on my ass. On my ass, then on my face again—halfway down the hill. Once I did make progress, I veered into the path of two people skiing down the hill, and that’s when I called it quits. I took my board off and walked my snow-covered ass down the hill.
But then the board slipped out of my hand. Since boards are literally designed to slide down snow, it did just that. The ghost board was really shredding the damn thing, even hitting the small jump at the end of the hill. What a show off.
By the time I caught up with my board, there was a small crowd of people looking around for me, asking how it happened. I explained, they gave me a look that was a combination of pity and sincere WTF, and I went to go get a beer in the lodge; the watered-down beer that made no affect on my sobriety, and that’s when I vowed to break up with my boyfriend.
Eventually I forgave him. Instead he broke up with me via Blackberry Messenger a few months later when I was in between the first and second drive-thru window at an Arby’s.