“Unveiling the Secrets of Shack Man: What Lies Beneath the Love Shack’s Charming Facade?”
Added on February 26, 2025 inASTROLOGY CARDS
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Chapter 9 – Love Shack, Baby, Love Shack!
Ah, Friday—the day when anticipation bubbles like a pot of water on the stove, just waiting to boil over. In this tale, I find myself entrusting my well-being to none other than Shack Man, a figure as intriguing as he is competent. What is it about a cozy, rustic retreat that can make even the most jaded soul feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Is it the wood stove radiating warmth or the enchantment of a remote location? Who knows, but I was in for a night that would turn my world upside down in the most delightful way.
Instead of a hasty dinner before heading to the shack, we decided to linger over an elaborate meal, savoring every bite. By the time we reached this alleged “shack”—which, by the way, turns out to be more of a magical hideaway than a rickety structure—it was pitch black outside, the kind of dark that swallows you whole. And there I was, sprawled out on the floor next to the wood stove, not exactly my original intention… but hey, when the ambiance is as dreamy as it was, who can resist?
Let me tell you, Shack Man was no run-of-the-mill outdoor enthusiast; he was a master of subtlety. Oh, he had no agenda other than to whisk me away into this serene escape. Wrapped in cozy darkness, illuminated only by flickering candles and the soft glow of the stove, I could feel the tension slip away. I drifted into a sleep so deep and tranquil that even the hypothetical bears outside didn’t rattle me. I had complete faith in Shack—he had this protective, womb-like aura, and for once in my life, I felt completely cared for.
When dawn broke, I awoke to the sight of him smiling and whipping up breakfast. Who needs sleep when your companion looks this blissful? As I took in my surroundings in the light of day, a sense of contentment surrounded me—I really didn’t want to leave.
Intrigued yet? Trust me, the best is yet to come! Come along and take a deeper dive into my whimsical escapade with Shack Man, where clashing personalities become a recipe for a bizarre and exhilarating love story. Ready for the ride? Just click on the link to dive into the full, delightful disclosure! LEARN MORE
Catch up here – Shack Man
Chapter 9 – Love Shack, Baby, Love Shack!
Friday came. By now, I could see, Shack Man was utterly competent. I put myself in his hands, entirely.
Rather than a quick dinner and run out there, we took the the long scenic route, stopping for an elaborate dinner on the way. By the time we got to the shack, it was completely dark.
That first night I fell asleep easy on the floor by the wood stove. This was not my intention, but this is what happened.
Shack = Valium. He was not a hunter looking for a kill. He made fine art of subtlety. He had spent months enticing me to his shack and he was in no hurry.
He lay me down on some major rug in the total darkness that exists in a shack in the middle of nowhere. The scene was lit only by a few scented candles off in the kitchen and the fire from the stove. Something played on his stereo that relaxed me to a supernatural degree.
I could not see him. I did not need to see him. I felt his breath on my arm, my shoulder, my neck, while the music took me further and further out. Senses heightened, I felt inordinately safe and contained. I saw an opportunity to let everything go. All inhibitions, all concern, all control. This was extraordinary for me so I took my chance. I value experiences over everything and this was a new one. I drifted to sleep in a haze of gratitude and appreciation for the rare and exceptional evening that Shack Man was providing.
It’s not advisable to fall asleep in the middle of the forest with candles burning, but I knew he would protect me from danger of whatever kind. Bears? No problem. Shack’ll handle it. It was a nice feeling. A womb feeling, even. I don’t think I’d ever felt so cared for in my entire life, so hey! I fell asleep.
When I woke up he was smiling and cooking breakfast. I don’t even know if he slept, but I do know he was glad I was there. He looked high from it. Happy to have company. Happy to have my company, on a Saturday morning at his shack. He was exuberant.
I looked around at the place, in the light of day. I liked it. I didn’t want to go home.
When I tell this story, people ask if it was really a shack. It was. It was a tiny, dilapidated shack in the mountains, but you’ve got to credit the Shack Man because he made it magic there.
The shack faced north in Colorado and this was big lesson for me. Being from the desert, I’d never heard of “southern/northern exposure”. I marveled as the winter snow accumulated and accumulated and accumulated but never ever melted. By the end of the winter it was heaped in 10 or 12 foot tall mounds surrounding the place in a ring because Shack man was meticulous about keeping the space around the shack clear. Why?
Well, as you know, with Venus in Leo, he liked women in pumps, not snow boots, so he was accommodating in this way. Middle of winter, I was able to park my car and walk into the shack wearing suede pumps on my feet. He made sure of this. It was the equivalent of laying out a red carpet. Chivalry was a thing.
Credit his Virgo Sun, the first thing notable about his shack was that it was orderly. That’s an understatement really. It had to be, because I’m not going to date a man who lives in a filthy shack, am I?
He had his space set up extremely well, to cope with lack of square footage. Beyond that, he was masterful at creating a dreamy environment. I was not in his shack for even five minutes, before it was, “Shack? What shack?” He’d said it was cozy and it most definitely was.
We ate breakfast while we listened to NPR’s Click and Clack car guys on the stereo with our fantasy love in full bloom. Hey, you guys! It was surreal. Like stepping into a new life, where you belonged.
That first afternoon at the shack, I got an inkling the extent, Shack Man was steeped in outdoor sport when the mail came. Virgos love mail, and they love to read, so it was a good mail day when the carrier dropped off a load of sporting magazines.
He pulled a ski magazine from the stack with a guy on the cover; ski star I guess. He told me owned the same outfit the guy was wearing. I don’t think he called it “outfit” but you get the idea. I was a little shocked.
He trots the thing out from his bedroom; which he’d not yet revealed. Sure enough, it was the same clothing, down to the color.
I thought of my sister, in love with fashion since she was born. I wondered if this might be akin to getting the current month’s Vogue and seeing your dress in the closet on the cover. I never determined if that was fair comparison, but it should tell you that this guy spent a fair amount of money on his equipment.
The stereo was just the beginning. He had another $50,000 in boy toys lying about. Considering the very limited space, what’s he gonna do with all his stuff?
He made inspired use of what room he had. The garage held various saws and drills – basically a complete woodshop plus everything you could possibly need to work on a car, both the engine and the body. Fine, but where’s his good stuff? The stuff he prized?
He took major metal hooks and he attached them to the wall all along the ceiling in his tiny bedroom. They ringed the room on three sides. Forget “attached”. He bolted them in a most masculine way, imaginable.
Maybe he used ice climbing nails. I don’t specifically remember, but the effect to my eye was like Rocky punching those sides of beef on hooks. Serious thick metal. No place for a girly girl like me.
I gasped when I saw this display. From these hooks hung tools of sport. Climbing ropes of various weights, textures and colors.
This one for rock, this other for ice, coated, uncoated, 1, 2 or B or B or 56e gauge. I don’t know how they classify these things.
There were sets of skis. Apparently this one for cross country, this one for extreme, this other was last week’s pair and so forth.
There was a couple pair of oars. An ice ax or two or three (or do I mean a pick?). Loops of metal cord with metal climbing widgets strung on them. Things that looked like giant manly clanking keyrings.
Clampons or are they Krampons.. whatever… metal shoe attachments to make climbing up ice possible and various collections of climbing “nails” of mixed size and weight were hung from these hooks and brackets that circled the room, floor to ceiling, surrounding his bed, which was a mattress on the floor.
My response to this was purely sexual. I have Mars conjunct Mercury! I thought I could get pregnant just standing in the middle of the room, and said so! I’d never seen such an exhibit of pure testosterone in my life. It was literally dripping down the walls!
It wasn’t long before I started flinging my pantyhose up there. Lingerie off and then up on the wall. My bra draped across his ropes and widgets. I would hang one red patent leather pump on top this manly rope, hooking the other on the tip of a ski, just “so”.
Hey. I had to do this. I have a Libra Mars. I had balance things in there, never mind marking my spot, and making damned sure that he knew he’d met his match.
See, Shack and I had very little in common but the contrast between us was compelling. In some way we were the perfect compliment. I was everything he was not and vice versa. We became blissfully happy.
He was crazy in all the right places. This was my bead on the situation. I was a stout delight to him as well.
Imagine his surprise when I dressed in his shack clothes, put a log on end and split it with his ax on the first swing, for fun. It was not that I was going to do this. He was going to do this. The point was, I could! I was uniquely qualified to be a shack girlfriend. There was no pitch he could throw, I could not hit out of the ballpark. The fit was electric. We spent the next weeks bonding.
It was invigorating and dreamy and we were full of hope. I could not believe my fortune. We were both eccentric. Out at the shack, we were free to be free, as nobody was looking.
It was intoxicating. We reveled in it, and I wish I’d have taken more pictures because things would turn on us, and turn hard.
To be continued.
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