I used to think Mr. Right might show up on one of the biking trips I was booking. Or at the Club Med. Or on the river where I was rafting. I've heard many stories of people meeting on active vacations and falling in love.
Sure, love could strike somewhere between biking a butte and doing an endo (the maneuver of flying unexpectedly over one's handlebars, sometimes cracking bones, sometimes not.)
I've had my vacation flirtations. After a biking-from-Banff adventure, for instance, I met up again with Joe from Chicago, for a biking weekend in Wisconsin.
But it dawned on me after awhile (sometimes I'm not too quick) that most of the people I meet on these trips are from far away. If I'm looking for a keeper, I'd really rather meet someone in my home town than someone from four states to the left.
The chances that someone within a 100-mile radius of where I live will sign up for, say, the Italy biking trip, the same week in November that I do, are akin to the chances of me ballroom dancing with Brad Pitt this Saturday night. Give or take.
Still, "singles" trips are appealing to many people. (I define singles trips as those where guests are single and looking, and want no marrieds on board. As opposed to a solo trip, where you just happen to be on vacation on your own, with a mix of different people.)