Fellas! There aren’t enough of them in D.C. for Post reporters Tara Bahrampour and Annie Gowen, who decided to solve their singleness by cruising for men in Alaska, where the gender demographics are more in their favor.
Alas, Gowen and Bahrampour don’t seem to have considered why D.C. hasn’t been inundated by Alaskan mail-order grooms: a lot of them aren’t at all interested in buying you drinks at Lincoln:
Georgy is wearing a wolf-fang necklace and has a red scab on his face where he burned off what he thought was a cancerous mole using some kind of acid. His Alaska hands, with blackened palms and dirt under the fingernails, are nothing like the soft, scrubbed Washington hands we’re used to.
“I used to make a lot of money, but now I’m making none at all,” he says. Until he strikes it rich, he’s working for a yurtmaker and socking his money away for the dream of many Alaskans: a yurt of his own.
Neither of them found love (although if you think two Post reporters would write up their one-night stand with a crab fisherman, I’ve got a bridge to nowhere to sell you). But lessons are learned. “Alaska, for all its weirdness, felt homey and familiar to me, and I return to Washington determined to look for the people hidden between the cracks, the ones with their own odd glimmers,” Bahrampour writes.
Thanks, rustic folk!
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