Glamping in Jersey

Achingly returned to the hood this evening after a lovely but too-short weekend camping at Allaire State Park with Chris. I'm super tired because I woke up at 6:30 2 days in a row (I know, yes, compared to what you guys are used to this is hardly suffering. But whatever).
I haven't been camping in years and it was always with family, so lots of stress and eating Twinkies in a corner wondering why there were no streetlights on to read by. This, however, was sublime. I was initially worried about going on a road trip to be outdoorsy because if there are ever situations where I can start a fight with someone, they usually involve being responsible for directions and doing useful shit in nature.
Instead! I got the directions messed up only once and started a campfire faster than my eagle-scout boyfriend. We went to a flea market and bought vintage bone china for $2, a pair of teacups and matching plates.
But wait! It gets better.
WE GOT WAWA SANDWICHES FOR LUNCH.
Again, all of you probably know this already, but on Sat. I truly discovered the glory and godliness of Wawa food. It is so efficient and delicious; I was floored. And it was only the beginning of the culinary delights which NJ had in store.


We stopped at a Shop Rite for extra food soon thereafter. I also baked up a storm of lime shortbread cookies and granola, while he made the hot dogs and crab cakes (it's called glamping for a reason). Instead of dried fruit pieces I threw in white chocolate, pineapple Jelly Bellys, and gummi penguins, which look the same but taste so much better.

So as evening settled in around us, we set up our tent, cuddled for awhile as soon as that was done, then made dinner. Sat around the fire in our camp chairs, eating this beautiful meal, drinking good wine and Perrier out of the teacups, and watching families and hippies in the neighboring sites while making judgmental comments. We also discussed Aztec history, high school, and free trade (globalization could be much better if it weren't horribly maligned by free-trade-driven politicians).

It was wonderful. For a solid 18 hours or so, I didn't feel remotely anxious or sad. I had great sex with a guy who wants to make me happy. Even when the second half of my Wawa sandwich got soaked in the cooler and I couldn't savor it I still felt good.

The next morning when we woke up we went for breakfast at the Huck Finn Diner in Union (great name!) and talked about American history as we packed away bacon and French toast and coffee. Actually for some reason when I'm with Chris I can't seem to eat as much as I usually do so I didn't eat all my toast. I can't tell if this bad or good yet. I mean, I'm still plowing through a lot.
THEN!!!! He asked if I wanted to go for a swim at his house and then go hiking. Naturally, this was one of those days when you are so glad you decide to wear your Lilly Pulitzer sundress and nice J.Crew swimsuit, because AHA I MET HIS PARENTS AND HIS SIBLINGS. They seem really nice, especially his dad, who's very talkative and Chris seems to take after him mostly. His parents are also just this generally nice, high-functioning couple who cook together and all of their kids have nerdy but unusual talents and everyone has a crucifix in their room whether they like it or not. We talked about the best way to keep squirrels away from the tomatoes (I suggested chicken wire and netting; Chris advocated shooting them and making coonskin caps). Mostly I was just shy and polite and I feel like I made a good first impression, I think. They seemed to genuinely like the shortbread, or maybe after you have kids you're just good at complimenting decent efforts.We made some sandwiches and milk and watched Rushmore alone in the basement except for the odd brother running downstairs "for something," went hiking in the arboreteum, and read aloud from the Official Preppy Handbook. His neighborhood is beautiful and much nicer than the nicest parts of Hartford County--no uppity McMansions anywhere, just graceful 1920s-era Tudors/split-frame and stucco houses and stone gutters. Once I saw it I kind of understood why he likes it so much--and despite my first love of urbanity, Short Hills was pretty stellar.

Chris told me he loved me before he brought me to the train station (an absolutely fantastic transit system incidentally, so clean/quiet/everything). I said I loved him too, and I had this strange rushing sensation in my chest and my head that I think proved that I really, truly felt it.
We talked a lot about doing things in the months ahead; in the short-term, I'm coming down again next weekend for dinner. I just hope it's going to work and I can keep pushing aside my cynicism and just enjoy this day by day.

OK, must go to bed, getting weirder by the minute.