It’s that time of year again. Time for reflection, but mostly a time for the dating wrapped presentation with the girlies.
And honestly, this year can only be described as another horrifying year in the Anchorage dating scene. Among my horrors were dates with (please roll your eyes) a pilot, four military men, and I even backslid toward an ex. Not my finest year, but you know the saying in Alaska — the odds are good, but the goods are odd.
Anchorage is like a big little town. It’s full of charm, quirks and beauty. But the dating opportunities here are far from endless. Swipe long enough and Hinge will tell you you’ve run out of options and ask if you want to look again. On that second round of swiping, you’ll find yourself reconsidering the bald guy holding a bloody salmon who is “figuring out his relationship type” well into his 40s. Or you might even think it’d be a good idea to swipe right on that guy on the fringes of your friend group (girl, don’t do it!).
And you’re bound to run into the staples — the commercial fisherman, the hunting guide, the ski bum, the pilot, the musher, the tourist, the slope worker, the climber, the JBER bro and of course, your coworker and all of your professional contacts.
And when things don’t work out, you’re nearly guaranteed to run into them at the next Beartooth show, on the Coastal Trail or in the cheese section at Fred Meyer’s. Always a fun interaction if you (or if they) ghosted.
And maybe the most common (and heartbreaking) stereotype you’ll date here — the guy who can “totally see himself in Alaska longterm” and is thinking about staying after his summer gig or coming back after he finishes grad school Outside. But trust me ladies, he’s moving back to the Lower 48 for good.
Sometimes dating in this city feels like deciding if you love Alaska more than the idea of a romantic partner.
For the last year, I largely gave up on dating. The most promising of my suitors ended up being a performative fake feminist who launched into a 15-minute dialogue about “how hard it is to be a man these days” during our third date. Three of the four military men were completely unremarkable. And I even went on a few dates with a man I met at my local dive bar — turns out he was still on probation for a domestic violence charge (girlies, never forget to Courtview EVERY man you meet).
So things have been bleak. Like, to the point that two of my friends independently gifted me “How to Date Men When You Hate Men.”
And given the state of our world — that our country elected a sexual predator, we decimated reproductive rights, and just the overwhelming drown of the manosphere — combined with the disappointing and honestly sometimes frightening experiences I’ve personally had on dates with men, it makes sense to be cynical.
But, dear reader, I’m venturing boldly back into the dating pool and (trying to) fill my heart with a shred of optimism. And I’m doing it all for you. So, please join me here at The Current a few times a month as I live out my Carrie Bradshaw dreams in Anchorage. Can’t wait to fill you in again soon.
