Romance on the Road
Perhaps my absolute fixation with traveling the world stems from the fact that everywhere I go, I seem to fall in love. Not just with the place, but with a boy.
It’s the classic, foolish dream where girl-meets-boy overseas, he wines and dines her and they fall in love and live happily ever after in a beautifully chic apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower. I fell in love for the first time on the road. I fell hard and felt what it was like to really crave another soul. I felt the fiery passion in the depths of my body when I saw him, thought about him, laid with him. I was completely and helplessly infatuated. When you meet someone you’re so incredibly drawn to, emotional extremities take over, encompassing fear and naked vulnerability on one hand and an overwhelming sense of pure happiness and contentment on the other. Everything new and exiting we experienced together, constantly learning, seeing and taking in all that was around us. We met new people together and we tried new things together, from authentic locals who welcomed us into their homes and hearts to the taste of new flavours and aromas from exotic foods that we would indulge in.
The best thing about meeting someone on the road is that you’re forever imagining the future. You dream of that someone’s home, wherever in the world that may be, with you in it. You envisage detailed scenarios of going out with that someone’s friends and playing celebrity heads with their family in front of a fire in the living room. Your future with this incredible someone is unknown, as are so many other things.
Love on the road is like a fast-forward button is stuck on the entire time. Spending every second with someone with no other responsibilities, expectations or hidden agendas, it can feel as if you have been together all you’re lives after a mere two weeks. And then all of a sudden, the stop button is pressed and reality mercilessly tears you apart. A visa runs out, a flight is booked back home, a life is ready to return to and a dream is devastatingly shattered, as something so beautiful has to come to an end.
After much life pondering analysis on this particular issue, I have asked myself many a-time whether romance on the road is actually real. Whether these lovers are my true soul mates or whether our love is based on a certain time in our lives that attracts us to each other. Perhaps it’s because these gorgeous males have similar values and perspectives on life as I do. They may like to embark on spontaneous adventures, jump off cliffs into the sea, dance barefoot in mud or make love on a train. Or maybe when travelling, it becomes hard to distinguish how you really feel about the person and how you feel toward life in general at this time. Would I love him if I were at home? Would we both be the same people we are on the road?
And then I hear tales of those ladies and gentlemen who met during a wild backpacker trip through a seedy little village and lived happily ever after.
Those dedicated lovebirds who packed up their lives and moved across the globe to be with each other. I hold these stories close to my heart and refuse to lose hope. I know my one true love is out there and one day we will meet somewhere in this big, wide world. And if I need to keep traveling to find the one, then I’m okay with that too.