“Wait, Is This Too Weird?” The Suspense of Saying Yes to Adventure

When I first set foot on the Salt Flats of Bonneville, Utah, it felt like stepping into another dimension—one where the rules of Earth didn’t apply. The landscape was a shimmering, otherworldly vastness, reflecting the sky so perfectly it appeared I was walking on a giant mirror. Imagine the set of a sci-fi movie crossed with an existential crisis, but in the best way possible. It was also, believe it or not, the setting for one of the most surprising dates of my life.

Let me back up.

I was in my early twenties, fresh out of college, still unsure if my next step should be grad school, returning to my Arizona roots, or moving to a bigger city. My life felt like one giant intersection with zero directions. And so, when a new acquaintance—a self-proclaimed thrill-seeker named Jake I’d met at a mutual friend’s party—suggested a “day trip to the edge of reality,” I said yes. I blame my restless spirit. Also, Buffy Sainte-Marie’s lyrics were probably playing in my head: “Take the time to make your peace, and make your life a work of art.”

I had no idea what I was signing up for.

First Dates on Another Planet

Picture me in a slightly anxious haze during the five-hour drive, sitting in Jake’s rusted Jeep that smelled faintly of sagebrush and regret. Between songs on his questionable playlist, he casually mentioned we were heading to the Bonneville Salt Flats, a dried-up lakebed where speed records are set. At this point, I didn’t know if I was being invited to ride shotgun in a test for NASA’s latest rover or if this was some weird prelude to an experimental indie film.

The moment we arrived, though, all my nervous energy dissolved into slack-jawed wonder. Think pure white desolation for miles in every direction, with the horizon smudged by heatwaves that made the mountains in the distance seem like floating mirages. The flatness was startling—ground so smooth that dropping a coin would result in a loud plink-plunk-plink as it ricocheted into the void. Standing there, I felt completely off-kilter, like I had wandered into a place Earth hadn’t quite finished polishing yet.

“Pretty wild, huh?” Jake said, clearly pleased at my astonishment. It was one of those rare moments when words escape you, and you just nod because anything you say will ruin the magic.

That’s what I remember the most, actually—not Jake’s Yeezy sneakers or the faded bandana he insisted on wearing with zero irony, but the silence. It was so silent you could hear the sound of your thoughts stretching. I grew up on stories told under the night sky, surrounded by family and the comfort of voices. Here, I was stripped of all that, alone with the stars above and the reality of how small I felt.

And yet, in this emptiness, I found clarity.

Salt and Self-Reflection: Lessons in Vulnerability

Here’s the thing about taking risks, whether it’s saying yes to a spontaneous trip or agreeing to be vulnerable on a date: there’s always a pinch of salt involved (pun fully intended). It’s messy, sometimes awkward, and almost always leaves you questioning your better judgment. But it’s also where the good stuff happens.

Standing on that surreal terrain, I learned a valuable dating lesson I’ve carried with me since:

  • Saying yes without overthinking makes space for the unexpected. Too often, we treat dating like job interviews. Where do you see this going? Is this a “forever” thing, or are we just passing through? But Bonneville reminded me that some moments can’t be quantified. They’re about discovery, both of another human being and yourself.

Would I ever bring salt flats up on my list of conversational icebreakers again? Maybe not. But for that one day, when Jake handed me a kite (yes, he brought a kite) and we ran in circles trying to coax it skyward, it clicked: half the magic of showing up is just showing up.

Navigating “Out There” Moments Like a Pro

Okay, so this article isn’t just a humblebrag about looking cute in aviators while wandering a salt desert. Bonneville taught me a few practical relationship takeaways you can bring into your own life, even if you’re not about to chase mirages across Utah.

  1. Even “weird” places reveal important truths. Bonneville isn’t romantic in the traditional sense. This wasn’t a candlelit dinner or a scenic mountain retreat. It was strange, bold, and surreal. But here’s the question: if you can laugh, connect, and feel comfortable in the unusual places, doesn’t that say more about compatibility than sharing a bottle of Merlot?

  2. Leave your smartphone in the glove compartment (or at least on airplane mode). Because the world has enough blurry photos of sunsets and salt flats. Being present—not virtually documenting everything—enriches the moment. Turns out, a shared laugh over salt-smudged shoes gets better mileage than a TikTok montage.

  3. Imperfection > perfection. Did our kite ever soar? Nope. Did I wear shoes completely inappropriate for a salt-based date? Absolutely. But that’s the thing about worthwhile connection: it’s not neat, tidy, or scripted. Fumbling through the unpredictable together creates a stronger bond than pretending you have it all figured out. Spoiler alert: no one does.

From Flirt to Familiar: The Call to Adventure

As for Jake and me, let’s just say my relationship trajectory didn’t exactly rival a Nicholas Sparks plotline. But that’s not the point. Our salt-flat escapade was never really about falling in love with one another—it was about falling in love with the unknown.

I left Bonneville with a new perspective, actually. From the endless horizon of reflective salt to the kite that never quite made it into the sky, the date taught me that sometimes the best connections arise when you allow yourself to be vulnerable, weird, and a little out of your comfort zone.

Whether you’re testing the waters of a fledgling relationship or stepping into the unknown with someone who intrigues you, my advice is this: say yes to the hard-to-describe places, both physically and emotionally. You don’t have to conquer new planets (or salt deserts), but let yourself be surprised. You might just learn a thing or two about yourself along the way.

And, hey, at least you’ll have a killer story to tell—one that might start with, “This one time… at the salt flats…”