10 Weeks 10 Dates #10: 'If you like it then you should have put a rig on it'

Z
"It's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's flying date-bloggers!" High above pier 40 in Chelsea, the stage was set for the grand finale of our 10 week 10 date adventure. As with many of the other outings we embarked on in these past two and a half months, I never imagined myself attending a trapeze class. Of course it always sounded like fun, but I could never see myself finding the reasoning, or the gall to actually try it out. Suffice it to say: it was an experience.

J
I have never been one to voluntarily risk my own life or climb a ladder or fall from great heights on command or listen with respect to someone who looks like the wrestler Carlito. Until date ten. This date's for you, loyal reader. Let's end it on a high and terrifying note.

Z
Having been with Julie for almost two years now I can tell you that we share an unnatural degree of gluttony for punishment. So, since Julie is afraid of heights it's only right that she schedule a date whose main attraction is flying through the air upside down.

J
Why? I ask myself as we look up to the trapeze rig atop a building on Pier 40 along the Hudson River. I hate heights. Despise them. What on earth convinced me to do, nay, SUGGEST such a stupid date idea? Answer: Carrie Bradshaw. Damn you Sex and the City for convincing me that if Carrie can do it, so can I. It hasn't helped in the past, having only eaten at Applebee's for the past year in hopes of seeing their voiceover guy Aiden. So why I thought trying to mimic her now would be a good idea is beyond me. But here we were. Non-refundable payment already charged to my credit card. I was getting on that rig.

There was lots of preparation that went into this evening's escapades. Push ups at night to hopefully increase my upper body strength. Standing closer to the edges of things thinking maybe my fear of heights would disappear. Making t-shirts so I looked smokin' hot. That's right, I made t-shirts. You may have noticed making t-shirts is another hot date, so I made this an uber hot date by wrapping two into one. Wanting to surprise my main squeeze with something nice and a bit unexpected for our upcoming 2 year anniversary (and 2 years for those who haven't kept up with their Emily Post is the cotton anniversary) I sought out an online shirt maker to whip us up some subliminal advertising genius. [www.hers-and-his.com] They turned out just as I wanted, purposely non-matching so Zane would be okay with wearing them together in public if the occasion arose. Now not only had the occasion risen, but so had I, up a million foot ladder shoddily roped to what I could only hope was a professional rig.

Z
Leading up to the event, we made sure to review all the safety warnings, supplied by the company website. "You may get bruised, you may become an emotional wreck, you may die, either way, it's not our fault." These issues paled in comparison to the one threat they seemed to take much more seriously: addiction. In big bold letters at the bottom of the page read "Don't fear the flight, fear the addiction."

What? Are we going to be drugged? After the "flight" were we going to be handed a fun sized can of Pringles? I highly doubt that anything that was to happen on this date would land us on A&E's Intervention. Nevertheless, I welcomed their attempts at hooking me.

Walking out on the roof proved to be one of the most troubling parts of the experience. The elevator opened into a darkened hallway. Sunlight crept in from the ramshackle entranceway, which was apparently under construction. Fortunately we learned from the many previous dates, that first impressions rarely help quell our nerves. Still, the loose, creaking, and wholly unavoidable ply-wood ramp leading out to the roof made us all the more hesitant about what we had just gotten ourselves into.

J
We weren't the only ones participating, but we were the first to arrive. Feeling like dorks in matching t-shirts I assessed the situation. Three totally popular kids swung like monkeys around this contraption. No harnesses, no safety anything, not even socks. Having read the rules beforehand I knew to cover my knees and shoulders and to have my socks ready to go. I was so excited to wear my stocking feet in public. But one look at these folks and you could feel the divide. Newbie people: socks. Cool kid instructors who could "fly": naked. Yeah, naked. Because I don't think it counts as covering if it can be balled up and fit into someone's pocket. Hot shot lady was jacked. She was so jacked she had pecs instead of boobs. She wore a teeny neon band-aid bikini top and Victoria's Secret booty short jammy bottoms. And that was it. Oh, unless you count her dangling belly button ring. Hot shot guy 1 had an afro that was so cool you just wanted to touch it. He was jacked and had these plaid shorts that must have felt too big so he rolled up the pant legs to get maximum leg exposure. Hot shot guy 2 was a bit too cool for school. He only had on tiny mesh shorts and really tall soccer socks. Ooh, socks, maybe he's new too! He liked to flex his forearm Popeye style and have the ladies swoon. Did I mention they all had on dark sunglasses? We never saw their eyes. I didn't trust them.

Z
Our instructor could only be described as a mix between Lenny Kravitz and a professional surfer. The lesson plan revolved around standing in positions that would best showcase his chiseled physique to the entire class. With each move he flexed a different muscle, and with every command he crammed in as many double, triple, and quadruple entendres to make even Shakespeare go "seriously?"

J
The instructors oozed summer job sex, as it clearly was just the three of them on this roof for the entire season. If anything, us wannabe flyers were just getting in the way of their steamy threesome on the rig. Thank goodness some other regular folks showed up before class began. 9 girls and Zane. Story of his life. We were strapped into belts so tight a corset would have felt roomy then began the lesson in how to cheat death. As I looked around I saw the same look in everyone else's eye: excitement. Oh no, they all want to be here. I envisioned myself holding up everyone else as I shook my way up the ladder, unable to get any higher than a few feet, let alone jump off once I reached the top. No Julie, you can't. You must be strong. You must be brave. You must fake the excitement of these bimbos who just want to touch Hot shot guy 2's veiny arms.

Z
I'm not quite sure if attending a trapeze class makes for a good date, but working at one can undoubtedly score you some.

J
Afro guy led us through all sorts of quick directions from ground level. He had us line up and went down the order of what we were to do. Something about jumping then legs up then arms flailing about. "It's easy, you just do what we tell you to." Maybe I'm a proud modern woman but he lost me there. I may have paid to be here, but I will not just do whatever you tell me to do. But no Julie, you must try. Pretend to try at least. So that is how I survived circus camp, I pretended to try and just focused on not crying too loudly. I raised my hand thinking I was asking the obvious question but just wanting to clarify "Now you don't expect all this legs up/arms down stuff on the first try right?" Haha? Yes? The answer was yes. I was screwed.

Z
Fortunately for me (and for Julie as well, I'm sure) the rest of the class was composed largely by an estrogen-fueled girls' outing, in celebration of someone turning the big 2-4. As they flirted, giggled, and fell out of their tops, we were free to critique our surroundings, free from the wandering eyes of our guides.

J
Zane looked excited for all this so I tried to feed off of him. We signed up for our order, him fourth and me eighth and began to watch as others attempted what we had just been taught. I was really impressed by everyone's ability. We were all beginners and the can-do attitude by all was really nice. Apparently they all got the memo that trapeze happens up high and left their wimpy height-fearing friends home. When it was Zane's turn he got up there and swung like the monkey he was told to be and it was awesome. Soon after it was my turn and it was time to put up or shut up.

Z
Climbing ladders is always very unnerving, so much so that even with our impending plummet, it is during the climbing of the ladder that my stomach would turn the most. So there you go. I just saved you and yours hundreds of dollars! Go buy a ladder and climb it to the tippy top. Your heart racing yet? Well it works on some people...

J
I had joked to my friends beforehand that I had just paid my $65 to sit in a corner and cry for 2 hours. Driven to not shed a single tear I faced all of my fears one after another. Climbing a ladder? Done. Being wicked high up? Yeah, did that too. Jumping off of a wicked high height while holding a little bar? Unbeknownst to me I was capable of that as well! I shook like a leaf but when push came to shove I jumped on the second round of the woman telling me to jump. That's really good! And there were no tears shed. That's amazing! And I actually swung. Which to me was great, and it felt liberating, but upon looking at the video footage afterward is actually quite sad looking. I heard the guy scream to put my legs up and I just laughed. Yeah right buddy, if I can barely jump I really doubt you can get me to hang upside down while swinging. I was pleased with myself and didn't let anyone else boss me around to go beyond my already non-comfort zone.

Z
The most unexpected portion of the afternoon came when I reached the top of the ladder to the main platform. Without rhyme or reason we found ourselves amid an informal interview "How are you? Where are you from? What do you do? Like "work," what do you do? Oh? Weird, and you get paid for that? What movie am I thinking of?" I have to admit it did effectively cut down on the stress of the first jump, but afterwards, just led to the stress of one of those first date "getting to know ya" chats. I will say this, though: every job interview should end with jumping out a window.

J
Pumped that I did "so well" in my eyes, I was trying to stay focused and accept that I had to do it all over again at least twice. Zane was very supportive and understanding that this was a huge step for me. But Afro guy seemed to think I could try a little harder. He encouraged me to go practice on the ground level bar and try to put my legs up and arms down. Apparently he has seen through my charade of pretending to try. Damn. So there we go over to the bar, Zane tagging along knowing this man did not know what he was getting himself into.

I explained to Afro guy that even just jumping was a major accomplishment for me and that I could go on leading a happy life not having put my legs up and arms down, but nope, not acceptable. He was used to girls swooning over his good looks and stupid grin and doing whatever he told them to do. I was a challenge. So he tried. He had me put my legs up, which I could do because I was not 20 feet above the ground. But when it came time to drop my arms, I just couldn't. And I'm not talking like mentally I didn't want to, I physically freaked out. He kept pushing me telling me "You keep telling me what you can't do, just show me what you can." Which did not help the situation. It finally got to the point where I let go just to appease him but then the dam burst. Full on panic attack. I have trouble being inverted and the stress of the situation didn't help. I may have screamed. It kinda isn't all clear, but I know that I sure cried a ton. And that freaked him out. He finally let it rest that I didn't want to fly like a monkey and was more than happy to hang like a wet noodle back and forth until I had slowed enough to gently fall to the net. Zane, like the loyal boyfriend and documenter he is, stood close by to capture my freak out and offer whatever support possible.

Z
While I felt terrible for Julie, there was a slight twinge of worry for our buff teacher. While she may be tearful out of fright, her face is beet-red out of anger. That's the funny thing about Julie, no matter how teary eyed she gets, her fist or foot can always find your groin. Thankfully for all involved, the mood settled without fisticuffs.

J
After my episode, the three cool kids handled me with a little more ease and though they didn't accept no as an answer (one guy kept instructing me when to put my legs up every time) they learned to go through the motions and pretend I was just like everyone else as I lifted my knees a few inches to show effort. When they went around teaching everyone how to hold your hands out for the "catch" (after you hang by your legs you then grab hold of Afro guy and swing from him) I just put my hands out like everyone else and whispered to him "We can pretend."

After everyone's 3rd jump they were told how many stars to put next to their name. I finished my sad noodle swing and arrived to silence. I cheerfully asked how many stars I get, always one to be an overachiever, and he responded "Uhh, three stars?" Hearing this, Afro guy cracked up and I realize I am being mocked. Apparently this is a one or two star rating system and he made my level up. I didn't let it phase me. I liked to focus my efforts more on how to have a sexy crawl across the net to the spot where you dismount. I called mine "the sexy tiger."

Zane's Review
If you read any sentence in this entire post make it this one: This date is not for the faint of heart! As Julie has so eloquently described, any fear of heights or being upside down will be tested during this date. While I was concerned about my own uncertainty about high places (see: rock-climbing date), I felt safe enough not to let it get to me. So to-each-hers/his-own I suppose. "Flying" is a thrill, but I would take a ride on a segway over it any day. Considering the aches that last for days, and the off chance you will lose your girl to the "too-cool-for-school" instructors: I give this date 4 "stars" out of 10.

Julie's Review
I could see jealousy becoming a major issue with Zane getting better and better each time he flew adding another trick to his repertoire. Whether spinning on the dismount or attempting the catch, I feel he put enough effort in for both our money's worth. I think he worried I hated the whole thing, but I really felt like I came out a winner in my own special way. I mean, I was having a great hair day, I had contacts in which made me look sexy, and I climbed a ladder, how much greater can a date get? 1 "I'll never do this again even if you paid me but I'm happy I can tell my kids about it, so why not make it a 3" out of 10.

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About the Authors
Julie and Zane have been dating 2 years and have moved a combined total of 5 times. After moving in together for the first time, they began a blog entitled Hers & His to record their adventures of living together and to avoid having to repeat stories for their parents. They enjoy exploring their city of New York, Law & Order: SVU, Sushi and Jeopardy. Julie works in marketing and Zane is a video editor. They are the proud parents of a handsome little kitten named Buster. Even when life becomes as mundane as it can be, they always find a way to make it feel epic.