The Day I Wore a Coconut Bra for Love—and Journalism
Some stories beckon to you gently, like a wildflower at the edge of a trail. Others charge at you like a grizzly in mating season. This one? It roped me in somewhere in between, with a wink, a dare, and the promise of great free appetizers.
It began when my editor, over a slightly pixelated Zoom call, leaned into her camera and said, “Jax, we need someone to write about love in unexpected places. You game?” Sure, I’d been plenty game before—leading moonlit hikes for honeymooners who wanted to “bond with nature” (who knew mosquitoes were aphrodisiacs?) and writing slightly-too-introspective essays about wolf territory disputes as relationship metaphors. But this one sounded different.
“Unexpected how?” I asked, half-expecting her to suggest making matchmaker profiles for llamas.
“Ever met someone at a luau?” she replied mischievously.
The Set-Up: A Plan, A Costume, and A Questionable Serving of Courage
Here’s the thing about saying yes to adventure: you don’t always think through what’s coming. So, days later, I found myself pulling a fake lei over my head and tying on a coconut bra at something called the Annual Mountain Luau, an event that started as a joke but became a charity fundraiser for local wildlife preservation. I was there to, as my editor said, investigate “how stepping outside your comfort zone might lead to sparks—or self-discovery.”
If you’ve never attended a luau in the middle of Wyoming, it’s something like watching the cast of Yellowstone attempt an episode of Survivor. Cowboy boots join forces with floral shirts. Someone inevitably tries to roast elk over the fire pit “because we’re out of mahi-mahi.” And yes, there’s a limbo contest.
Stepping into the main event dressed like a tropical punchline felt like repelling down an emotional cliff. I’m not naturally shy, but when your whole upper body jingles every step you take, it’s hard to exude charm. But hey, journalists suffer for their craft, right?
Lesson One: Vulnerability Is Surprisingly Magnetic
The moment I stepped into the community center-turned-“beach,” it happened: a dozen pairs of curious eyes turned my way. Some folks chuckled, others raised their beer mugs in salute. Then came the brave ones, the people who’d perfected the fine art of not taking themselves too seriously.
“Bold choice,” one woman said while ladling something orange and vaguely tropical-looking into my cup.
“Thanks,” I replied. “I left my grass skirt at home.”
That one line taught me more about relationships than a thousand think pieces ever could. A little humor, a little vulnerability, and suddenly people are not just talking to you—but leaning in.
Coworkers, neighbors, that one guy who showed up in an actual shark costume to “out camp everyone”—all of them came by to chat, to laugh, to share their own awkward, slightly ridiculous stories. For one night, the entire dance floor became its own social experiment in connection. Nobody cared if you spilled your drink or if your samba looked more like a two-step. Approaching relationships—and life—with a willingness to laugh at yourself? That’s the real magic.
Lesson Two: Romance Has a Funny Way of Surprising You
Midway through the evening, with the conga line snaking dangerously close to the buffet table, I found myself face-to-face with a person who managed to effortlessly balance campy and cool. She wore a half-destroyed lei, bits of charcoal dust smudged on her cheek. “The grill caught fire,” she explained with a lopsided grin. “But the burgers are salvageable.”
Her name was Callie, and for the better part of an hour, we stood chatting next to the taco luau station about everything from our mutual stumbling into small-town life to her dreams of opening an art therapy studio. She even managed to compliment my coconut ensemble without making it weird. It wasn’t some earth-shattering, fireworks-level event—but there was a charm in the way it felt totally unforced.
“If you can walk away from this night still willing to talk to someone in this outfit,” I joked, gesturing down at myself, “you’re braver than I am.”
“That,” she said, “sounds like a challenge. Let’s see if you’re still brave for the limbo.”
Spoiler: I wasn’t. But when I fell, at least she was laughing with me—and maybe that made it worth it.
Lesson Three: You Learn as You Go (Preferably Over Cheesecake)
By the time the crowd thinned—and I had learned which wings of the venue offered the best “coconut-free views”—I wasn’t sure how this bizarre evening fit into my career narrative or life advice column. But here’s where the story folded back on itself nicely: I sat at the makeshift dessert table with Callie after everyone else had made their way out.
There, among leftover pineapples and increasingly questionable banana pudding, we talked about the awkward beauty of finding people in unexpected places. “Sometimes,” she said, stealing a bite of my cheesecake, “we take ourselves too seriously to really see what’s there. Life’s just better when you’re a little ridiculous.”
She wasn’t wrong. Life felt better, even if my ribs were still slightly sore from a failed hula hoop contest.
The Takeaway: Risk and Ridiculousness Pay Off
So would I recommend the coconut bra? Probably not. Next time, I’ll leave the luau glamour to braver folks. But I would absolutely recommend daring to step outside the expectations you’ve wrapped yourself in—whether it’s meeting someone new, reigniting an old spark, or just letting a festive night inspire your next story.
Callie and I ended up grabbing coffee a week later—sans leis and rogue charcoal smudges—and while it didn’t turn into an epic romance, it cemented something I think relationships thrive on: possibilities. You never know who you’ll meet, or where, and letting yourself lean into the messy, silly nuances of life only increases the odds you’ll find something good.
And if nothing else, well, you’ll have quite a story to tell.
The Bottom Line: Whether it’s luau nights or awkward first dates, put yourself out there. You might stumble, but you’ll also stumble into moments worth having. If nothing else, you’ll gain a few laughs and a treasure chest of lessons about what makes connection so extraordinary…coconut bra optional.
