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Column: Making it in Missoula

So, which would you bet is the better place to be single? Zoo City or Zoo York? My answer might surprise you.

Having lived in both cities, I've realized Missoula and New York City aren't that different—except that 125 times more people live here in New York (including more single women than the entire population of Montana) and we have buildings taller than Mount Sentinel. When you get right down to it, people flock to both places for the same reason: quality of life.

Read on to find out more about how these cities' different definitions of "quality of life" affect dudes trying to get a date. (Bonus: you'll also find out how umbrellas resemble single women.) [more]

Column: Making it in Missoula

I just learned some fun facts about Missoula’s demographics, thanks to a trustworthy Missoula source who emailed me this link from the New York Times Sunday Edition.

The article summarized the best places to live in the country, taking into account everything from trails, transportation, hurricanes and crime, to spirituality, respiratory infections, migraines and telecommuting.

Guess where Missoula falls in the mix? Not too shabbily, actually—read on to find out more about our city's "gender imbalance," our attraction for "empty nesters" and our ranking among the "most single" cities in the nation. [more]

Column: Making it in Missoula

It’s surprising, when you really stop and take stock, how much of your life someone else can inhabit if you let them. The castoff from a relationship can hang around for a long time, wedged into parts of your life you weren’t aware of. Love notes stuffed into forgotten drawers; books with handwritten inscriptions on your bookshelf; mix CDs still rotating in your stereo; pictures stuck in the flip-down visor in your car. It’s impressive how many places you can hide someone.

These revelations arose after I'd inadvertently called my ex, who was still on my speed dial after nearly eight months. Dropping someone from your speed dial is a fairly heady decision; it’s like blocking their email address or de-friending them on Facebook. The meaning is clear: while you’ll hang onto their number, they’re not someone you’re interested in calling all that often. You’ve got more important people to talk to. And it’s true: I do have someone else I’d rather talk to.

And so began The Great Spring Cleaning. [more]

Column: Making it in Missoula

As I was reading Bob Wire’s most recent prose, Beer and Music: Could There Be a Connection? I realized that I, too, had to write about beer. Ah, beer. Maybe I’m so enamored with beer right now because it’s Friday, or because it’s a sunny spring day, or because I just bought my very-own homebrew kit.

And that’s exactly my point—here in Missoula, any reason is a good reason to be enamored with beer.

This point was perfectly illustrated when I participated this Wednesday in the otherwise-unrelated activities of Ultimate Frisbee and the Yonder Mountain String Band show—both of which prominently featured beer. My Wednesday doings also had in common a large amount of aerobic activity (the frenetic boogie-down to the bluegrass was both impressive and terrifying).

Now, most people in the world probably don’t couple strenuous aerobic activity with heavy beer drinking. But Montanans—and Missoulians in particular—are special people. Super-evolved people. Talented, multi-tasking people—especially when one of the tasks involves drinking. I’ve never lived anywhere else where sports teams drink PBR at half-time instead of water…after hanging out at a local brewery to first prepare for the game.

I hereby issue this challenge: an average Missoulian can out-drink most anyone, especially out-of-staters. We celebrate beer, wine, gin and tonics and whiskey with gusto and almost religious fervency. [more]

Guest Column: Making it in Missoula

I think the moral of this month's winning "You Made It" story might be: avoid the double-black diamonds until the relationship can withstand some awkward falls and bruised egos. What do you all think about daredevil, recreation-based first dates?

Stay tuned for the next "Making it in Missoula" column on the conundrum of fancy versus funky: first dates in Missoula. Congrats to H-Factor--relish that Bitterroot Flower Shop bouquet and bottle of Ten Spoon wine.
-Big Sis

I should have known from the start it would end badly, what with he on a snowboard and me on skis. Nonetheless, I thought a first date at Lost Trail Ski Resort would be a good day of a "getting-to-know-you" on the slopes.

I'd met McRib (my Lost Trail date) in Helena at a mutual friend's birthday party in Helena the weekend before, and we'd hit it off and decided to go skiing the next weekend. He drove over to meet me in Missoula, and we had great conversations on the drive down. After a couple of non-eventful warm-up runs, I convinced him to join me on Lost Trail's expansion hill, where I wanted to do some double diamonds.

McRib assured me he was up for it. As we headed down the double-black Hollywood Bowl, he dropped ahead of me into some trees. But when I came up behind him a minute later, he was lying dazed in the snow.
[more]

Making it in Missoula

Check out a few of the Making It readers' responses for their "Only In Missoula" moments. Thanks for participating in the discussion of what make's Missoula unique--from "west of Higgins" and downtown, to East Missoula and the Northside. Feel free to add your own moment to the list by commenting below.

-Big Sis

Only in Missoula...where the worst dog owners in the world seem to flock like the swallows of Capistrano, can I step in dog shit in the Albertson's parking lot. -Poopy Shoe

Only in Missoula...we're all new west people--Patagonia, cowboy boots, tool belts, laptops--they're all welcome in the western Montana my family helped bulid. -Sarah

Only in Missoula...lighting up a huge joint with friends on the Old Post deck or in Charlie's...a smile, opening the door for someone, thanking a driver for stopping for you to cross, not being a dick on a bike (unless its 2:00 AM...the fun bike hour), or listening to a transients story...these are Missoula values to me. -Change
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A weekend question for Making It readers (while you're waiting with bated breath to don gobs of green garb and guzzle green beers at Sean Kelly's on Saturday):

Walking to my noon yoga class yesterday, a stranger at the intersection of Broadway and Higgins caught my eye. A woman of my same age, height, and hair color was wearing my exact same, brand-new, flashier-than-the-average Patagonia fleece. And she had on my same exact Dansko clogs (i.e. “Rocky Mountain high heels”), too.

We smiled as we passed in the crosswalk. A fun coincidence, but not really worthy of mention.

Except that I saw the exact same woman standing at the exact same intersection on my walk back from yoga two hours later.

She laughed. “Did you get your fleece at the Gambler’s Sale?”

I laughed. “Uh, huh. Did you get your shoes at Hide and Sole?”

Only in Missoula, baby. Only in Missoula. So, What’s your latest “Only in Missoula Moment”?
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Column: Making it in Missoula

I’m back in town and back in action. Ah, the Mexican vacation. I found sun, sea, solitude, serious relaxation, and some new friends. Yup, even a few of the male variety. I remembered why it’s FUN to be single.

So, why, suddenly, did not just one but two men fall into my lap after only a week in Mexico when I haven’t had a date in Missoula since, oh, the very first snowfall? My extremely scientific hypothesis is: because I was “on vacation.”

I’d like to suggest that vacations give us the excuse to shove our inhibitions under the rug. The real reason why I found some fun in the sun with single men is because I left my hang-ups at home. Plus, I left behind all the people who know about my hang-ups, and who may hold me accountable for bad decisions after the tequila fades.

Tipsy skinny-dipping, one-night-stands, jumping off cliffs, and talking to strangers on rickety buses—all deviations from my normal behavior while I was in Mexico were explained away with a shrug, a smirk, and the universal explanation: “I’m on vacation.”

And, upon my return, I realized this: Missoulians excel at exercising the “on vacation” mode without even leaving our Garden City.
[more]

Guest Column: Making it in Missoula

The morning after the Old Post’s re-grand opening, I woke to a quickly solidifying headache and a strong desire for some coffee and hash browns. As I was deciding if I was really ready get out of bed yet, I heard these words:

“Do you know where my shirt is?”

Not an unreasonable question. Except that for the past six months or so I’ve been chronically single, and so hearing anything in the morning other than NPR was slightly disquieting.

I rolled over to find Pajaro sitting up in bed, scanning the room for her clothes. The light was still dim, so I pretended to go back to sleep while I tried to figure out how such an attractive woman ended up in my rather shabby bed.

It was probably the Cuervo Gold margarita that started it. And the multiple rounds of double-gin and tonics. Followed by more double-Jack-and-gingers. Toss in a little bluegrass and some serious jonesin’ and it wasn’t hard to see a clear arc in a very blurry evening. But now what? [more]

Column: Making it in Missoula

I’m running away. A Valentine's escape from Missoula to the sun, the sand, and the sea. I’m going to Mexico. Alone.

And here’s why: The community here is starting to feel claustrophobic.

Maybe it’s the gray weekend skies and the heavy Snowbowl snow. Maybe it’s this fourth month of cold Montana winter. Maybe it’s the starting-to-feel monotonous job, or the starting-to-feel monotonous singledom. Or maybe I’m just in need of a vacation. Or vitamin D.

The comment that brought many of these recent feelings of restlessness and monotony to a head was uttered by Hot Mama’s husband, Beefcake. At a recent dinner gathering, various good friends announced their pregnancies, engagements, and otherwise exciting life events. Beefcake turned to me with a pat on the head and said, “And then there’s Big Sis.” Exactly. [more]

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