Look, non-divers just don't get it. They see the pristine beaches, the exotic locations, maybe a cool fish on Instagram, and they think we're just... swimming. Bless their cotton socks. But being a diver is a whole different beast. It changes you. It makes you weird. It gives you an entirely new set of highly specific, utterly baffling quirks that only another diver will understand.
So, if you've ever felt like an alien trying to explain basic physics to a landlubber, or you've accidentally tried to equalize your ears during a particularly boring meeting, then congratulations. You're probably one of us. Here's how you know you've officially crossed over into the glorious, slightly deranged world of the diver:
You Know You're a Diver When...
- ...you aggressively sniff your "clean" wetsuit before putting it on, just to confirm the faint scent of stale pee isn't too overwhelming. (It never is. It's your pee.)
- ...you accidentally try to perform a buddy check on your significant other before a road trip. "Air on? Weights secure? Okay, love you, drive safe."
- ...your idea of a "fashion accessory" is a bright yellow SMB or a dive knife that could double as a small sword.
- ...you judge someone's character based on their air consumption. "Oh, Dave? Yeah, he's a real heavy breather. Can't trust him."
- ...you own more specialized neoprene than actual clothes. And half of it smells vaguely of lake muck and regret.
- ...you've perfected the art of the underwater glare, a look that conveys "Get out of my shot, you beautiful but poorly positioned fish!"
- ...your search history is 90% "decompression sickness symptoms" and 10% "flights to Bali."
- ...you consider a dive trip "roughing it" if the boat doesn't have hot fresh water for rinsing.
- ...you can effortlessly clear your mask in a swimming pool, but the moment a single drop hits your eye in the ocean, it's a full-blown panic attack.
- ...you think nothing of spending thousands on dive gear, but balk at buying a decent pair of socks. Priorities, people.
- ...you've definitely, absolutely, 100% never peed in your drysuit. (Your drysuit just has a mysterious, warm spot that appears mid-dive. Totally normal.)
- ...you find yourself trying to equalize your ears on an elevator. Especially a fast one.
- ...your "post-dive meal" consists of anything vaguely edible that won't require chewing, because your jaw is still recovering from biting down on the regulator for an hour.
- ...you've seen things underwater that would make therapists rich, and you only tell your dive buddies about them. They're the only ones who get it.
- ...the phrase "just one more dive" is a dangerous, intoxicating lie that has extended countless trips, ruined countless schedules, and is entirely worth it every single time.
- ...you size up every body of water, from a swimming pool to a puddle, and instantly calculate its potential visibility. "Could I hit neutral buoyancy in that?"
- ...your non-diving friends are genuinely confused by your tan lines, which appear to have been applied by a mad scientist with a BCD.
- ...you refer to land-based travel as "surface intervals" and mentally calculate your no-fly time before a business trip.
- ...you've seriously considered (or actually tried) using your drysuit pee valve during a long, boring Zoom meeting. For science.
- ...you discover a suspicious, unidentifiable stain on your dive bag and just shrug, "Comes with the territory."
So, How Many Ticks Did You Get, You Magnificent Aquatic Weirdo?
So, how many did you tick off? If it's more than three, welcome to the club, you magnificent weirdo. Being a diver isn't just a hobby; it's a lifestyle, a mindset, and frankly, a minor mental illness (the good kind). We embrace the cold, the gear, the occasional bodily fluid-related incident, all for those fleeting moments of pure, unadulterated underwater magic. And we wouldn't have it any other way. Now go forth, and dive weird. And if you're in the mood, maybe stock up on some new dive gear. The kind without stains...