I’m both a lesbian and a former geologist, which means that I love spending time in the outdoors doing shit like camping, hiking, and wearing sensible shoes. Below is a brief list of the gayest things I’ve ever done in the outdoors. It is full of sweeping generalizations about what is gay; they are all true, so do not trouble me with questions like “how can the sun be gay?” I just know in my heart that the sun is gay. You’re welcome. Without further ado, a list of the gayest shit I’ve ever done in the great outdoors:
Kneeling down like Olivia Benson and examining a shotgun shell in a pile of gravel at a campsite.
“A heterosexual was here,” I whispered to myself. Signs of heterosexuals are everywhere, if you know where to look for them: a shotgun shell on the ground, a pair of Dockers in the mall, an Ernest Hemingway book on a nightstand. This is the extent of my tracking skills; Bear Grylls, I am not.
Calling my tent “the Witch’s Hut” and making a big deal about it.
“We could hear you farting in your tent last night.” WRONG! You could hear me farting in the WITCH’S HUT last night. Nice try.
Getting angry because someone is wearing the wrong kind of hiking boots.
“No, that’s fine, I guess you just don’t need ANKLE SUPPORT” is something I once angrily yelled at someone wearing hiking shoes. Am I aware that “ankle support” is something that is often overstated by hiking boot companies to sell boots? Yes. Do I give a fuck? No. I will cushion my meaty ankles in as much breathable mesh as possible until I die because a bear sees my sturdy-ass ankles and thinks I’m a moose and eats me, thank you very much.
Falling into a bog.
One time I stepped on what I thought was the ground, but it was a bog. Then, I fell in the bog. I don’t think I need to explain to you why the act of falling into a bog is extremely queer. When was the last time you saw a straight person in a bog? That’s what I thought.
Staring at the stars and thinking about how I don’t believe in astrology but still read my horoscope on Co-Star every day for some reason.
“I don’t even really know what ‘Aries energy’ is, but I know I have it,” I drone while everyone else stares at the Milky Way and ponders their place in the universe, silently praying that I will shut up soon.
Waking up with the sun.
Waking up with the sun when you’re camping is great because you don’t know whether it’s 8 AM or 10 AM or 2152: it’s just daytime and daytime is when you make coffee and talk about how great it is that you didn’t know what time it was when you woke up. The sun is gay, as is the moon, so I’m counting this as an act of queerness.
Talking about mountaineering disasters.
During my last year of grad school, when I was under constant pressure and feeling completely burnt out, I became OBSESSED with mountaineering disasters. Thanks to this weird obsession that is absolutely not worth unpacking or examining at all on a deeper level, I now know that it is a lesbian power move to ruin a weenie roast by talking about all the people who have died on K2.
Having gay sex.
Honestly, this feels less gay than most of the other things on this list, but it feels like it should be in here anyway. One time I cried while listening to the Fun Home soundtrack and assembling Ikea furniture, and that was pretty gay. But I guess having sex with my ex-girlfriend on a camping trip counts too?
Seeing a mass of writhing snakes and proclaiming myself their queen.
One time I hit a rock with a sledgehammer (for geology purposes, not just like… for fun) and a bunch of snakes fell out from behind the rock and I commanded them to flee and they did! Now I am a lesbian snake queen with a sledgehammer. That’s way gayer than gay sex.🌲