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Ski Boys

A few years ago, I was standing in line for the lift at Wildcat Mountain in New Hampshire, and I said to my lady friends, "You know, I think beards are hot."
This elicited quite a response from the group, because normally I am completely into clean-cut guys.
I rephrased this by saying, "I mean, I think SKI BOYS in beards are hot."
Thinking this was funny and cute-sounding, I later posted this comment on Facebook.
Two days afterwards, a senior co-worker came in wearing brand new beard.  He and I were messaging about something work-related and I said, "I think your beard is nice."
To which he responded, "...and I can ski."
To which I did not respond with anything, because I was completely mortified, remembering that I had friended this person a few weeks back.
So then of course I had to awkwardly figure out how to tell him that I did not, in fact, find him attractive in an inappropriate way, but yet still thought he was really cool and was not NOT unattractive, but just not attractive in the way I had meant on facebook.

Which brings me to Ski Boys.

Most people who do not ski would probably assume that since skiing is a really expensive sport, those who carry the title "Ski Boy" would be yuppie, clean-cut, 80s-esque white asshole guys.  This is SO not the case. Maybe it was in the 80s when all of those ski movies were made, but now, a Ski Boy is something different.

A Ski Boy is actually a Man, usually boasting a semi-to-full beard.  This beard keeps his face warm and protected from frostbite on really cold days.  He knows how to rock his top-of-the-line ski-wear without looking like a douche.  He simply looks like it's part of his uniform.  He probably sleeps in those snow pants.
He does not wear Spyder-brand because that is too obvious.  He has a "quiver" of skis for each different type of snow, and understands exactly what each pair of skis does for him.  He frequently has curly or tousled hat or helmet hair.  When standing in line, he looks comfortable in his boots, leaning forward on his poles, chatting with his friends.  He never fumbles...ever.  He never accidentally drops a pole.  He would never wear jeans on the slopes.  He would never wear snow pants that bunch above his boots.  He would never have a gap between his goggles and his helmet.  His face is typically tanned or windburned and he may or may not have a scar from "that time he was in the glades and ran into a branch."

When on a lift with a Ski Boy, he is friendly and will chat you up (if you don't look like a clueless beginner).  He will ask you where you're from and where you typically ski.  If you get two Ski Boys who don't know each other on the lift together, they will act like they are old friends and talk endlessly about the rocker in their skis and the last time they can remember a day as great as today.  They will use words like corduroy, switch, freshies, stomp and huck, liftie, off-piste, sick, trustafarian, and ten-eighty.  When you get off the lift, they will say, "Hey man, have a great day!"

Flirting with Ski Boys is interesting because normally when you meet them, you are dressed in snow pants and a snow jacket and a helmet and goggles and pretty much your attractiveness is judged on how well you can ski or whether you have a cool set-up.  Ski Boys can tell what kind of skier you are just by looking at your equipment.  It is known.  If you are a girl and your outfit is too bulky and you are small-breasted and are not wearing a color that identifies you as a girl, sometimes, you can be identified as a small dude, and that's rather embarrassing.  This happened to me a few times, but has not since I bought a bright raspberry-colored helmet.  So in general, I have had good experiences with Ski Boys.

One time, I met a hottt Ski Boy on the lift and it turned out that he was some sort of mogul champion.  I flirted my way into getting him to give me a lesson.  My group of friends, seeing this interaction, decided (without telling me) that they were going to leave us alone.  Hence, when the Mogul Man and I reached the top of the mogul field, I looked up to see my entire group standing there, staring down at me, before scooting off down a different trail.  Embarrassing and somewhat obvious, if you ask me.  The Mogul Man turned out to be less than interested in me, but he did give me a really good tip: bounce off the almost top of the mogul instead of skiing in the deep crevices between.  This has stuck with me since and I will say that I am one of the best mogul skiers that I know, personally.  Thank you, Mogul Man.

I met my Ski Boy at a ski shop.  I could tell he was a Ski Boy from the way he passionately and excitedly pointed out the technology and made fun of me for having skis that were obviously too long.  My Ski Boy has sparking brown eyes and the best smile I have ever seen on a human being.  He has 5 pairs of goggles that he casually matches to his different jackets.  He can ski as quickly backwards as he can forwards, and he's the only one I know who can appropriately appreciate my ass in a pair of snow pants.  He skis like a bat out of hell and I have to do my best to keep up with him, and feel proud when I can.  He proposed to me a few weeks ago and we will have a wonderful Ski Life and open a Ski Shop and have Ski Kids who never cry or complain.

The End.




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