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I spent a month or two with Derek (names changed throughout), a legitimate maestro who was mostly a bartender owing to the shortage of symphony orchestras in the state.He had a hot tub and the kind of marijuana addiction that made him tack brightly colored carpet samples to a wall because he wanted something “cool” to look at while he was high.Welcome to “It’s Complicated,” a week of stories on the sometimes frustrating, sometimes confusing, always engrossing subject of modern relationships.In the four years I lived in Anchorage, I dated more than I probably will for the rest of my life.I didn’t mind floating around a little stoned, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to talk about flooring for more than 60 days.I went on a hike with Scott, who asked me out because he liked the book I was reading one night while I had dinner alone in a restaurant.
I had a roommate in Ameri Corps, and enjoyed having sex with one of her co-workers, Paulo.
My lack of a high-school love life and the fact that I never saw any hometown dick makes it easy to go back to visit now, but at the time it made me feel ill-prepared for dating in the real world.
I quit college after a year and moved to California when I was 19; I met my first boyfriend at work, and we dated for three years.
While it’s no longer true that there are more men than women in Alaska by a ratio of two-to-one, the skewed gender ratio might have played a small part in the fact that I was able to pull so much.
I’m not great with math, but I think that in an area where there are even slightly more men to choose from, your chances of boning a few of them tend to go up exponentially.
I assumed my romantic life in Alaska would continue the same way it had everywhere else I lived — sparse and unexciting.