After a decade of swimming through the dating pool of self-absorbed almost-working actors in Los Angeles, I took up with a Montana man.
“Do you want to go on a fun little outing?” Henry asked me our first week of dating, roughly four years ago.
Obviously I said yes because I heard, “Let’s go on a lovely hike along the river. We’ll have a picnic with wine and maybe take our clothes off and fall in love a little bit.” Thrilled, I clipped into my floral fanny pack and slid on my oversized shades, standard hiking accessories in my native L.A.
Instead, he tossed a six-pack in the cooler, loaded up a massive box of clay pigeons and a couple shotguns, and off we headed to Hyalite Canyon for target practice.
Oh boy.
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