Nick and I were a little shy about deciding to travel together, our relationship as yet unclear. When we were confronted with the question of how many rooms we wanted at the hostel in El Calafate, there was a lot of mutual bluster: “Well, I mean, we can get a double, I guess. Cheaper than two singles,” I said “casually,” not at all worried about cost.
“Yeah, and it’d be nice to not be in a big dorm room of snoring people,” Nick agreed, “not caring either way.”
“A double, yeah. And … I guess … two beds?”
“Yes, please, two beds,” I agreed, like a “lady.” Of course the only room available had one queen bed. “Well, if that’s the only thing available,” I said, happily.
“Yeah, if that’s all there is, sure, we can get by with one,” Nick agreed, quickly.
— What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding (Kristin Newman), Loc. 1482–9