Don’t Ever Date Someone from a Mountain Town.

He’s the one in the flannel, in between those other two wearing flannels. She’s got a goggle tan and a trucker hat that matches her fanny pack. He’s still wearing his snow pants, while she’s fist bumping with her “chicas.” They are leaning heavily on the bar, but for every drop of spilled whiskey, they have an interesting story to tell.

Seriously, don’t date anyone from a mountain town. They are hard to please. The usual “get a pizza and fuck date” already happened to them twice today before noon. Their souls crave tequila and howling under full moons. You’re never going to ski fast enough for them, or keep their attention. They’d rather drop acid and listen to Dead tribute bands than meet your parents.

She knows all of your friends. So if you’re having a hard time getting her number you should probably just ask one of them. But when you take her to the Secret Stash on the cheapest date you can think of, expect all of your friends to be there, because she invited them. As soon as she figures out that they all have sleds too, you might as well be out of the picture.

He loves you. But that’s just the molly talking. He’s told that to every girl with beautiful hair in the Stagecoach on a Thursday night. Sure his greasy chest hair looks good with polyester, but is that really what you want scratching your face in the morning?

They’ve held the same job for years.  Bumping chairs and busing tables is incredibly satisfying work thanks to water bongs. Sure he might be talking about getting a promotion next season, but at an average of 17 sick days a month, it’s a long way off. He makes the rest of his money handing out bags of plants to tourists, and three weeks into hooking up with him he’ll stop sharing.

But seriously, don’t date anyone from a mountain town. They’re well educated. After getting a degree in business management or engineering, they found a brutal job market. Instead of pursuing their dreams, they fled to the mountains to wait it out. That was in 2001.

Anyone in a mountain town lives a life of uncertainty.  They don’t have addresses, they have couches they are crashing on. Their seasonal jobs end, and they’d love to see you, but they need to go to Thailand for six weeks first. They don’t wear watches, because they all have cell phones, but the coolest ones still have flip phones. Their emotions are ruled by the weather forecast, and whatever they are coming down from. If it’s snowing, they won’t be there in the morning when you wake up, and you’ll be lucky if they leave a number behind.

They will never need you.  Happy hour comes and goes without fail. There is always a couch to crash on. If the snow really sucks, they’ll just go to Nelson. They might not have a car, but they come with thumbs. They know the right cooks in town to score free meals from. They climb mountains, only to go down them.

So don’t date anyone from a mountain town unless you’re willing to share; your drugs, diseases, studio apartment, furniture, ski gear, or last bowl of Cheerios. And if you unintentionally fall in love with one, drink plenty of water and wait it out. It should only last a few hours.

-Bomb Snow

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