There’s something about fresh air, sunsets and campfires that draws you closer to the one you love. And there’s something about ticks, mosquitos and rain dripping into your tent that tears you apart. For the sake of your relationship, check out the ways my husband and I have managed to camp together and still stay married for almost 35 years.
1) We built an ark. Or rather we bought a camper. It’s the perfect size for two. The table makes into a bed so theoretically the camper could sleep four. But they’d really have to like each other.
We bought the camper partly because the only thing that leads to torrential downpour faster than us washing our car is us going camping. We used a variety of tents over the years, and they were all waterproof—mostly. But lying on a sleeping bag all afternoon while puddles lap up against the sides of your tent tends to dampen your enthusiasm for both camping and the person you’re spending all day in the tent with.
Sitting in the camper while the rain beats on the roof is cozy, even romantic. For one thing, the Ark, as I like to call it, has a stove and refrigerator. While rain may dampen my enthusiasm for camping, it doesn’t dampen my enthusiasm for eating. And my hangries have been known to…well…dampen my husband’s enthusiasm for me.
2) We both learned how to back up the Ark. Not really. I haven’t learned that, but I did have the good sense to marry someone who does. And he’s very good at it. That’s lucky because the only thing that tests a relationship more than backing up a camper badly is misplacing all your tent stakes.
You see the problem. One partner backs up the camper while the other calls out instructions and encouragement—or criticism and insults depending on how well it’s going. It’s just like that old Neil Sedaka song, “Backing Up is Hard to Do.” Oh wait. I think it’s “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.” Same difference.
3) We learned to close doors and drawers in the camper. And by we, I mean me. For reasons I can’t fully explain, I have a habit of leaving them hanging open. I suppose it’s because I’m so efficient. Why close them when I’ll just have to open them again.
But items that are not secured tend to fly around in a moving camper. I’ve tried to do better since the day I opened the camper door and discovered doors and drawers aren’t the only things I leave open. An open bottle of dishwashing liquid had fallen out of the cupboard enroute to our campsite and was now lying on the floor in a pool of soap. This could have put a strain on our marriage—if I’d told my husband about it. Instead I took the opportunity to scrub the floor.
4) We learned to make do. One of the benefits of the Ark is that a lot of what we need for camping can be stored in it. But not everything. And if we forget something, we have two choices: We can blame each other for forgetting it. Or we can make do without it. Making do is easier on our relationship. Still sometimes we do both.
When we forgot cooking oil we made do with boiled eggs. After the incident with the dish soap, I made do by washing our dishes in shampoo. And when we forgot bath towels we made do by driving to the nearest town and buying some.
Dorothy Rosby is the author of Alexa’s a Spy and Other Things to Be Ticked off About, Humorous Essays on the Hassles of Our Time and other books. Contact her at www.dorothyrosby.com/contact.