Tailgate Crumbl: The Dating Ritual I Didn’t Know I Needed

There was a time when “Tailgate Crumbl” was a whole era of my life — and honestly, one of my favorite chapters. Sean and I weren’t even dating yet — “just friends” — two people pretending we weren’t into each other while absolutely being into each other. We’d meet at Crumbl, I’d show up with a coffee, he’d drop the tailgate on his truck, and we’d split cookies like we were judging a baking competition on Netflix.

We’d order the whole lineup for the week (because who picks just one?), cut everything into quarters with that tiny pink cookie cutter, and talk about them like we were cookie sommeliers. And the best part? It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t staged. It wasn’t even indoors. It was just us, coffee, cookies, a truck bed, and the surprisingly chaotic energy of that parking lot.

Because let me tell you something about that Crumbl parking lot — it’s never boring.
We’d be mid-cookie review when suddenly the entire racing-car population of Sacramento would descend. Hundreds of cars, revving, swarming, showing off… until the cops and the helicopter showed up and everyone scattered like sprinkles in a windstorm. It was unhinged in the best way.

Tailgate Crumbl was the thing that made us laugh, talk, open up, and — without realizing it — know each other.

And now? Well… Sean and I aren’t seeing each other anymore, but the tradition?
Yeah, I’m keeping it.

Dating in 2025 but make it cookies.

When I started easing back into dating, I decided I wasn’t doing the classic dinner-date trap. Because nothing is worse than realizing 15 minutes in that there’s no vibe… and now you’re locked into a $58 filet you don’t even want. Or the “let’s get drinks” thing — which, hi, I don’t drink, so it just turns into me buzzing off espresso until midnight.

So when a date gives me the “What should we do?” option… boom. Tailgate Crumbl.

The first guy thought Crumbl sold milk. Cute. They didn’t.
So we walked across the street to the AM/PM like a couple on a Walmart-run, grabbed milk, came back, and sat on chairs outside Crumbl because — plot twist — he didn’t have a tailgate.

And this is when I realized something important:
A man with a truck is a priority.
A tailgate is a lifestyle.

We talked, we ate cookies, we had fun… and he was a nice guy, truly. Just not my guy.

Tailgate Crumbl Date #2?
Sunshine. Cookies. Easy conversation.
And a very unfortunate situation with fingernails that haunted me for a week. There’s a difference between “I work with my hands” and “I chew my nails down to emotional-trauma nubs,” and this was definitely the latter.

None of these dates have turned into great love stories yet… but Tailgate Crumbl?
That part is a 10/10 every single time.

Why Tailgate Crumbl actually works

Here’s the thing: It’s low pressure.
It’s fun.
It’s public.
You get fresh air.
You get coffee.

And you learn a LOT from how someone reacts to something simple.
Cookies break the ice.
Tailgates start stories.
Parking lots reveal personalities.

And honestly? It’s been a weirdly perfect way to get to know people — way better than a stiff dinner or a loud bar.

So yes… Tailgate Crumbl is now officially my thing.

Maybe one day it’ll be “our thing” again with someone new. Or maybe it will always just be my favorite reminder that connection doesn’t have to happen in candlelight with a reservation. Sometimes it happens on the back of a truck, cutting cookies into quarters and comparing notes on the peanut butter one.

Either way, it’s part of my life now — messy, sweet, unexpected, and kind of delightful.
Just like dating.