I can confidently say that my most surreal experience on this earth happened under it, in a cavernous, glimmering expanse of rock and water known as the Homestead Crater, located in the unassuming town of Midway, Utah. Before you start imagining some ominous, bat-riddled cave system—this wasn’t that. The crater is a warm, geothermal hot spring hidden inside a 55-foot limestone dome, and it’s as if Mother Nature herself decided to sculpt the closest thing Utah has to an out-of-body spa experience. But, trust me, things took a turn for the absurd.

Part 1: Setting the Scene

It wasn’t my idea. Naturally, that phrase kicks off many of my weirdest dating stories. It was the early days with my now-wife Kayla—back when flirting felt like a live wire you didn’t dare let go of—and she casually suggested we drive down to the Homestead because “people snorkel there.”

At that point in my life, I hadn’t given much thought to snorkeling in landlocked Utah. If you’d told me I could get in a wetsuit (a piece of apparel that makes you feel simultaneously majestic and ridiculous) and duck my head into a hot spring heated by the Earth’s literal core, I might’ve given you a skeptical squint. Nevertheless, in the name of love—and trying to impress Kayla with my sense of adventure—I agreed.

Picture me, sitting in a car stuffed with towels, a change of clothes, and two hearts eager to connect. Somewhere outside of Midway, with Pine Canyon winding through tall, jagged peaks, Kayla looked over and said, “You’ll love it. It’s like swimming but weirder.” Turns out, that’s the most accurate description of the day.

Part 2: First Impressions

When we arrived, the exterior of the crater was bizarre enough to set the tone. It's not some sweeping, mystical landscape that hints at hidden depths. Nope. From the outside, it looks like a giant, lumpy cupcake someone left in the desert sun too long. Yet as soon as I stepped inside and saw shimmering aquamarine waters tucked under a soft skylight of Utah sun, I thought: Alright, who replaced Utah with a movie set?

Kayla, ever the adventurer, wanted to scuba dive. I, clinging to my inner safety monitor, wasn’t quite prepared to trust myself with tanks and regulators deep underwater—but I still agreed to snorkel. Just close enough to show I was game, but not wild enough to risk plummeting into what I told myself (in an irrational panic) was possibly a portal to another dimension. This balancing act between curiosity and caution didn’t just describe my relationship with the water—it also summed up how I felt about dating at the time. Vulnerability is terrifying, but exploring the unknown? That’s where all the good stories lie.

Part 3: The “What Just Happened” Moment

In theory, snorkeling in a warm spring—where the water cradles you like an electric blanket—should’ve been meditative. And at first, it was. I floated, staring down through crystal-clear water into a vast shaft that seemed to descend forever. Overwhelmed by my own insignificance in the beauty of it all, I thought to myself, This is incredible. I’m so glad I left the couch today.

But that serenity didn’t last long. About halfway through our dip, I noticed something else in the water: a man clad in full scuba gear with a foam reindeer headband strapped to his head. He waved enthusiastically before disappearing into a cloud of his own bubbles. It was Christmas Eve, as I suddenly remembered—and apparently, the crater had its own version of Santa Claus.

That wasn’t the only curveball. Just as I was adjusting to the festive scuba diver, a group of guests on a ledge above us started launching tiny, rainbow-colored foam balls into the water. Industrious types that they were, they had apparently invented a game involving points for hitting snorkelers. Cue me dodging Nerf projectiles while swallowing my fair share of water. Kayla, ever the cool cucumber, dodged one like she was auditioning for “The Matrix” and laughed so hard she almost spit out her snorkel. I decided at that moment: This—the laughter, the weirdness, the enchanting ridiculousness of sharing this with someone—is what dating is about.

Part 4: Lessons the Crater Taught Me

Emerging hours later, hair damp and hearts full, I realized the Homestead Crater had taught me a few things about life and relationships. (Yes, even places with foam-ball warfare and underwater reindeer have lessons baked in.) Whether you’re chest-deep in lukewarm water or deep in conversation with someone you’re falling for, here’s what the experience brought into focus:

  1. Stop Overthinking—Jump In
    I could’ve found a million reasons to stay home: “Snorkeling in Utah sounds dicey,” or “Limestone domes aren’t my vibe.” But saying yes led to something unforgettable. Sometimes, you just need to take the risk—whether it’s on love, an unfamiliar place, or the chance for adventure.

  2. Laugh at the Chaos
    From dodgeball with foam spheres to festive scuba divers, nothing about that day could’ve been described as “normal.” But the chaos made it memorable. Relationships are the same way. Sometimes, you’re dodging life’s curveballs together, and those are the memories that stay with you.

  3. Find Space for Wonder
    It’s easy to be cynical in dating—especially when you’ve been burned before. But the crater reminded me to hold onto curiosity. The same bubbling uncertainty that makes hot springs magical also makes relationships thrilling.

  4. Don’t Snorkel Without Practicing Breathing First
    Listen, nobody tells you this, but snorkeling is not, in fact, “just breathing, but sideways.” I spent the first ten minutes thinking I was malfunctioning. Metaphorically speaking, preparation—whether it’s for snorkeling or serious conversations—is never overrated.

Conclusion: The Magic of the Unexpected

We didn’t leave the Homestead Crater with rainbow Nerf balls or waterproof selfies (note: cameras let you down when they meet hot springs). But we did leave with laughter, minor prune hands, and a feeling I’d later recognize as love solidifying.

To this day, whenever life feels too monotonous, I think back on floating in warm water, staring at the fractured sunlight above, and marveling at all the unpredictable, deeply human absurdities this world holds. Sometimes, the craziest places we go—physically or emotionally—offer us a chance to experience joy and connection beyond reason.

So here’s my advice: say yes to the weird date idea. Let go of expectations. And, if you ever find yourself soaking in something unexpected, whether it’s a hot spring or the start of something real, embrace the adventure. Who knows? There might just be a reindeer.