"I Could Actually Do THIS Type of Camping"

My husband recently told a friend something that made me want to print it on a t-shirt and wear it forever: "I didn't like camping until we bought a camper."

That's it. That's the quote. No elaboration. No credit given to his wife who spent YEARS trying to convince him that camping could be enjoyable. Just a simple statement of fact, as if he'd independently discovered that RVs exist.

But here's the thing—he's not wrong. My husband didn't like camping. Past tense. Because the camping I was trying to sell him? The tent camping version fueled by my rose-colored childhood memories? Yeah, that wasn't it for him.

Let me take you back to where this whole journey started, back when I thought love meant making your spouse sleep on the ground in a fabric house.

The Tent Camping Era (AKA: The Dark Times)

I grew up tent camping. I have fond memories of waking up surrounded by nature, the smell of campfire coffee, the sound of birds chirping. It was magical! Peaceful! Character-building!

What I conveniently forgot in my nostalgia was that those camping trips were also pretty basic, led by adults who didn't camp often and probably didn't know what they were doing. But I loved it anyway because kids can find magic in anything, including sleeping on the ground.

So naturally, when I married Stephan—a man with exactly ZERO camping experience—I assumed he'd immediately fall in love with my childhood passion.

Spoiler alert: He did not.

The Backyard Tent Wrestling Matches

My husband tried. I'll give him that. When I begged him to give camping a shot, he set up our six-person tent in the backyard, complete with some particularly colorful vocabulary that I won't repeat here (but trust me, it was creative).

Here's what Stephan hated about tent camping, in order of intensity:

1. The Setup Every. Single. Time. The tent setup was his nemesis. The directions that made no sense. The poles that had to fit together EXACTLY RIGHT or the whole thing collapsed. The stakes. The rain fly. The zippers that inevitably got stuck. He loathed it with the fire of a thousand suns.

2. Sleeping on the Ground He bought a cot. It helped approximately zero percent. Sleeping on a cot in a tent is still sleeping outside in a fabric box on something that feels like a medieval torture device. Not comfortable. Not even close.

3. The Whole Vibe The cold. The discomfort. The feeling of being one strong wind away from disaster. None of it worked for him.

We'd set up that tent in our backyard, pile the kids in, and inevitably by 2 AM, I'd be back in the house with one kid or another because they got cold or uncomfortable or realized that beds exist and why weren't we in one?

We managed to take the tent to a state park exactly ONE time, and only because family members invited us and I basically guilt-tripped him into going. He did it for me. He did it because I had these grand childhood memories. He did it because that's what you do when you love someone—you suffer through things that make you miserable to make them happy.

Romantic, right?

The Breaking Point That Wasn't Really a Breaking Point

Here's the truth: there wasn't one dramatic moment where Stephan threw down the tent stakes and declared he was DONE. It was more like... a slow realization that camping with our growing family in a tent just wasn't going to work.

Every backyard attempt ended the same way—kids retreating to the house, adults questioning their life choices, everyone exhausted and cranky the next day.

Tent camping wasn't living up to my childhood memories. Maybe I was getting older. Maybe the magic only works when you're a kid and someone ELSE is doing all the hard parts.

Or maybe—just maybe—we needed a different approach.

The Borrowed Camper Experiment

When the opportunity came to borrow a bumper pull camper for a weekend, I pitched it to Stephan with all the enthusiasm of someone trying to sell a timeshare.

He was skeptical. Understandably so. I'd already sold him on tent camping as this amazing family bonding experience, and that had gone... poorly.

"It'll be different," I promised. "Real beds. Air conditioning. No setup wrestling matches."

He agreed to try it, probably because he's a saint and also because borrowed = free, which appealed to his practical nature.

The Morning Everything Changed

That first morning in the borrowed camper, Stephan woke up in a real bed. Climate-controlled air surrounded us. No one was cold. No one was uncomfortable. No one had abandoned ship at 2 AM to retreat to the house.

He looked at me and said: "You know what? I could actually do THIS type of camping."

That's it. That was the conversion moment. Not some dramatic revelation or emotional breakthrough—just a simple acknowledgment that when camping doesn't involve suffering, it's actually... kind of great?

What Actually Hooked Him (It Wasn't Just the Bed)

I'd love to say it was one specific thing that converted my tent-hating husband into an RV enthusiast. But honestly? It was the whole package that weekend.

It was waking up refreshed instead of feeling like he'd been in a boxing match with the ground.

It was the laid-back campground atmosphere where he could actually RELAX instead of constantly fighting with tent poles and tarps.

It was watching our kids run wild all weekend, making friends, having adventures, while we sat back with coffee and enjoyed the show.

It was the feeling of preparedness that comes with having a camper—you're not at the mercy of weather or discomfort. You have a home base. A refuge. A place that feels secure.

The RV setup is different from tent setup. It's still work, sure. But it's the kind of work that results in comfort, not just survival.

And here's what really sold it: tent camping with our family size would mean multiple tents, coordinating everyone's comfort, and exponentially more work. The RV simplified everything while making it MORE enjoyable for everyone.

The Ultimate Plot Twist: He Plans the Trips Now

Want to know how converted my husband is?

He planned ALL FOUR of our camping trips last year.

Every single one. He arranged them with other people. He confirmed details with me. He was actively seeking out opportunities to go camping.

THE MAN WHO USED TO NEED CONVINCING TO SLEEP IN A TENT IN OUR BACKYARD NOW INITIATES CAMPING TRIPS.

He even tried to squeeze in a last-minute camping weekend right before his work got busy. We didn't make it happen, but the fact that HE suggested it! That's growth.

Recently, when he told his friend "I didn't like camping until we bought a camper," I wanted to interrupt with "AND YOUR WIFE WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG." But I didn't. Because I'm gracious. And also because he knows. He definitely knows.

The Real Lesson: It's Not About Toughness, It's About Fit

For years, I thought Stephan just needed to push through the discomfort and embrace the "roughing it" mentality. I thought if he just tried harder or gave it more chances, he'd eventually love tent camping the way I remembered loving it.

But here's what I learned: it wasn't about toughness or effort. It was about finding the right camping style for our family.

Some people genuinely love tent camping. They thrive on the minimalism, the challenge, the closeness to nature in its rawest form. That's beautiful! That works for them!

But for us—for our family of five with three energetic boys and two parents who value sleep and sanity—RV camping was the answer. It removed the barriers that made camping feel like punishment and left only the good parts: nature, adventure, family time, and s'mores.

Stephan doesn't hate camping. He never did. He hated tent camping. And that's a crucial distinction.

What This Means for Other Reluctant Camping Spouses

If you're reading this and thinking about your own tent-resistant partner, let me tell you what I wish I'd realized sooner:

It's not about convincing them to love YOUR version of camping.

It's about finding a version of camping that works for BOTH of you.

Maybe that's a camper. Maybe it's a cabin. Maybe it's glamping. Maybe it's a hotel near hiking trails (hey, no judgment here—whatever gets you outdoors together counts).

The point isn't to force someone into discomfort for the sake of "authenticity." The point is to create experiences your whole family enjoys.

Without the RV, we wouldn't be camping at all right now. Not with three kids. Not with the logistics. Not with Stephan's (completely valid) hatred of tent setup and ground-sleeping.

But WITH the RV? We're creating the exact memories I dreamed of. Just with better sleep and climate control.

The Conversion Is Complete

My husband went from wrestling tent poles in our backyard with creative profanity to planning surprise camping trips and telling friends how much he loves RV life.

That borrowed camper weekend didn't just show us a different way to camp—it showed us that camping could actually be something our WHOLE family loved, not just something one person tolerated for the other's sake.

Does Stephan give me credit for pushing the camping dream? Not publicly. But every time he books another camping trip or talks about our next adventure, I consider that credit enough.

Well, that and the fact that I was right all along. I could do THIS type of camping too—I just needed him to come along for the ride.

Your Turn: What's Your Partner's Camping Deal-Breaker?

Is your spouse anti-camping? What's their biggest objection? The setup? The discomfort? The bugs? Drop it in the comments—let's troubleshoot together! And if you've successfully converted a camping skeptic, PLEASE share your secrets! 👇🏻

Want to follow our journey from tent-hating to trip-planning? Join our tribe here for honest stories about finding the camping style that works for YOUR family.

See you on the trail! 🫶🏻

P.S. - Stephan, if you're reading this: you're welcome for introducing you to RV camping. I accept payment in the form of you continuing to plan all our trips. Love you, babe. 😘