You want to know the real reason I love to travel? Sure, I’m into museums and history and discovering that my way of doing things isn’t the only way but really I like the girl I become when I travel: fearless, self-sufficient, confident, and—get this!—I almost never get lost when I’m somewhere else.
I still get turned around on my way to New Jersey (which is bad, seeing as The Wedding Date lives in New Jersey) but give me a passport, a plane ticket and a map? I’m fine.
(Seriously. I spent nearly two months on my own in Europe when I was seventeen and I only got lost once.)
The new-and-improved me that suddenly springs to life when I’m abroad, however, is only half the story. Because with it comes my new-and-improved ability to meet people and by “people,” I mean of course men.
Even when I was seventeen and had a boyfriend, I met all sorts of men when I was abroad. There was my flat mate in Sevilla, then the Polish student I met on my way to Warsaw and finally the Korean backpacker that decided to accompany me to the Mozart concert in Vienna. I’m proud to say I remained the devoted girlfriend throughout the duration of my trip but I wasn’t exactly… well… happy about it.
The summer before I went to Oxford was even better. I was single by then and very much on the lookout. I met men in Germany, Finland, Italy and Spain and even though I didn’t sleep with any of them, I certainly experienced my fair share of international relations.
Then came Oxford, then London and then my trips to Scotland, Norway and Turkey. By the time I returned to the US, I’d kissed way more Europeans than Americans and frankly, I was pretty damn proud of this fact.
Then I met The Wedding Date.
And suddenly, as I sat on the couch contemplating the thought of a beach pass, the prospect of going to Europe started to lose a bit of its appeal. Not only would a trip abroad necessitate a rather lengthy period of time away from my current beau but our very relationship would requires me to revise my usual… err… itinerary.
(By which I mean I wouldn’t be able to spend the whole summer kissing foreigners and wondering if my next hostel hook up might actually turn into something more meaningful…)
Then again, I’m not 17 anymore. In fact, I’ll be 27 in August (!) and as my younger brother just finished telling me, “You know, Kat, sooner or later you have to grow up.” (Actually, those weren’t his exact words. His exact words included phrases like, “relationships are about compromise” and “you’ll find ways to maintain your independence” and “invite him to join you for a week.” When did he become so damn sensible?)
The thing about The Wedding Date, however, is that he has this uncanny ability to figure out what I’m thinking before I say it. And sometimes he figures it out before I even blog about it. I could bore you with the super-sappy details of our many “No way, you too?” moments or I could simply tell you that when I finally managed to channel my inner beach ball (aka preschooler) and tell The Wedding Date that I didn’t want to go to the beach this summer—that I wanted to go to Europe instead— he was, as usual, ten steps ahead of me.
And you know what? I realized (while reflecting upon last Monday’s post and all of your comments) that I don’t want to spend my summer swapping spit with a slew of handsome foreigners. I don’t care what country they hail from or what language they speak or how many stamps they have on their Eurail pass.
I want him.
And this scares me to death.
But it’s also exciting 🙂
PS: Remember when I went to 30 Rock back in December? Well, I may or may not be on TV tonight. In the unlikely event that I made the cut for the new CNBC documentary “Love at First Byte: The Secret Science of Online Dating,” you’ll be able to see me in all my Jomar’s pencil skirt glory at 9pm but after watching the preview, I’m fairly certain that my decision to try out my new lip liner just minutes before my first television interview was a mistake (i.e. the producers took one look at the footage and scrapped it). In any event, The Wedding Date is planning to Tevo it for me since he has cable and I don’t so I’ll report back once he reports back. Fingers crossed I won’t end up with another Single Bridezilla debacle on my hands.