Much as I love the idea of being in a winter wonderland, I've never been much of a skier. The last time I hit the slopes was fourteen years ago this weekend, during a Poconos jaunt with my California-based then-beau Mark. Recent events have me reconsidering the merits of being a ski bunny.
During a winter weekend in Vermont not too long ago, a good friend of mine found romance on the slopes with a Boston engineering whiz. Now immersed in a full blown long-distance romance, the two are about to take their third trip together.
Apparently, skiing is to men what spas are to women -- perfect for a getaway with friends. At a party the other night, I found myself sitting next to an adorable New Yorker recovering from a rare injury on the slopes. Turns out he's regular on the mountains of upstate NY.
I think it may be time for me to brush up on my skiing skills. Even if it means having to squeeze into a jumpsuit again -- something that was a lot less daunting back in 1995.