A Perfect Picnic… and Other Lies Nature Told Me
Let me set the scene: bright sunshine pouring through pine branches, the gentle lapping of Lake Tahoe against the shore, and the smell of fresh bread and strawberries wafting from a wicker basket. This was the setting for what was supposed to be a swoon-worthy date with the girl I’d been trying to impress for weeks. I had everything planned out down to the angle of the blanket (strategically placed to showcase both the view and my effortless charm). It was going to be a foolproof day.
Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.
But before we unpack that disaster, let me offer you this nugget of wisdom up front: No matter how good your intentions, the wild laughs at your plans. Sometimes, it also drops things on your head.
Why the Outdoors + Dating Is a Recipe for Chaos
There’s a reason romantic comedies don’t take place in the wilderness: Nature doesn’t care about your love life. Ivy-covered ruins and Instagrammable mountaintops? Gorgeous. But they don’t show you sweaty mosquitoes or the smell of wet socks that lurks just out of frame.
I should’ve known better, really. I grew up near Lake Tahoe, where tales of bear encounters and sudden storms were as common as s’mores. But I let my inner hopeless romantic convince me that a picnic date in the mountains would be straight out of a Janet Jackson music video from the ’90s: mellow, sensual, perfect. (Spoiler alert again: It was more “Home Alone” than “That’s The Way Love Goes.”)
The Day Nature Humbled Me
We arrived at the trailhead late—a sign, in retrospect, this wasn’t going to go well. My date, we’ll call her Mia, was nice about it, though I could tell she wasn’t thrilled that our “short walk to the perfect spot” turned into a steeper, sweatier hike than advertised. Pro tip: If someone asks, “Are there rattlesnakes here?” and your answer is, “Not this season, probably,” you’ve already gotten off on the wrong foot.
When we found the “perfect spot” (read: the only flat-ish clearing without tree roots doubling as booby traps), I unpacked the picnic basket—to discover that the thermos of lemonade had leaked. Now everything smelled faintly of citrus and wet paper towels. Mia laughed politely, though there was definitely a hint of “Is this guy serious?” in her expression.
But I wasn’t about to let a soggy sourdough ruin the vibe. I launched into my “how I once fixed a flat tire with duct tape” story—a personal favorite that’s gotten guaranteed laughs in the past. Except, partway through, the wind turned and sent half our napkins airborne like confetti at a pity party. Oh, and did I mention that as I leapt to grab them, I knocked over what remained of the strawberries?
I thought the worst was over. Then came the ants.
They were small at first—a couple of brave scouts investigating the blanket. But soon, an entire army decided to turn our picnic into the Ant World Buffet. Mia jumped up, swiping at her shoes and laughing in that nervous way people do when they’re one wrong move from bolting. I miraculously managed to whisk away the basket, ants and all, to a boulder on the side. My smooth recovery attempt? Landing us on a patch of what I now know was poison oak.
Lessons My Ego Didn’t Sign Up to Learn
By the time we hightailed it back to the car (her flipping through her phone to Google “poison oak rash” while I muttered apologies like a broken record), the dreamy mountain date I’d envisioned was as shredded as the napkins now stuck in a nearby fir tree. But before I let this whole ordeal write itself off as a loss, I sat with it. Somewhere between scrubbing my legs with oatmeal and trying to salvage Mia’s opinion of me, a few lessons emerged.
-
Keep It Simple
Romantic? Yes. Overly ambitious? Absolutely. Sometimes the best dates are the ones where you don’t bite off more than you can chew—or hike. Nature is beautiful, sure, but it’s also unpredictable. Don’t let your desire to “wow” someone backfire into ant-covered chaos. A beach towel and takeout sushi would’ve gone over way better. -
Laugh It (and Yourself) Off
Here’s what I realized: My date didn’t care so much that things went sideways; she cared how I handled it. If I’d sulked over the spilled strawberries or snapped at the ants, that might’ve been the nail in the coffin. Instead, I leaned into the absurdity. “Worst date ever?” I joked as we drove home. She grinned. “Top five, for sure.” -
Preparation Beats Grand Gestures
Adventure dates sound sexy—and they can be—but do your homework. Pack extra water, pre-scout a spot, and for heaven’s sake, learn what poison oak looks like. A little forethought can save a lot of, well, itching. -
Take the Pressure Off Yourself
Here’s the truth: No one’s expecting you to stage a Nicholas Sparks novel in the woods. The best relationships—the real ones—thrive on shared humor and a willingness to embrace imperfection.
The Bigger Picture
Let’s fast-forward a bit: Mia and I didn’t end up together, but the lesson from that day stuck with me—literally, for about two weeks, thanks to the poison oak rash. Dating, like nature, has no guarantee of perfect conditions. There will be bugs, and spills, and sometimes literal poison. But when you loosen your chokehold on perfection, that’s where the good stuff happens.
These days, I still bring dates outdoors, just with a bit more humility. I’ve learned that instead of promising “perfect sunsets” (seriously, weather apps aren’t psychics), it’s better to say, “Let’s see what we find.” And I’ve found that rarely do people fall for someone because they orchestrated flawless moments; they fall for the missteps in between—when you’re human and try your best despite the odds.
Because really, what’s the point of a partner who won’t laugh alongside you as ants invade your picnic? Exactly.
Here’s to the misadventures—they’ll teach you more about connection than any romantic movie scene ever could.
