“Catch flights, not feelings” has become a rallying cry. And when I started this trip, I thought maybe it could be mine. I left a string of romantic disappointments behind in New York, and I hoped a year with We Roam would be a much-needed break from the pressure of dating in my 30s.
But four months in, I’ve realized that the phrase describes yet another Cool Girl whom I’m never going to be. That girl is probably off somewhere skydiving, or on a speedboat headed to an island. And I’m sitting on the couch, slightly weepy eyed as I type this blog post, having caught feelings again.
I’m just closing the book on another two-day…fling? dalliance? I don’t even know what to call it. But it was great. And he was great. So great that I can’t even write down the story; you’ll just have to trust me. It’s hitting me much harder than the last one, I think because there’s nothing obviously wrong with him, nothing like Evan’s penchant for non-monogamy that lets me go, “Oh well, this was fun, but it would clearly never work in the real world.”
And that’s the other big problem—this is my real world at the moment. I can vacation hookup as well as the next girl, but I’m not on vacation. And I don’t know how to put my feelings on ice for a year.
I know what my more Romantic-minded friends will tell me: that you have to live in the moment, appreciate things for what they are, make the most of the time you have and then be open to what comes next. And I’m not saying that’s bad advice; it’s just that I fucking suck at it.
Also, to be honest, I don’t really have any desire to get better at it. I don’t want to know how to say goodbye more gracefully; I just want not to have to one day.
That, more than anything, convinces me that I’m not cut out for this nomad life in the long run. Every time I say hello to someone, I know goodbye is imminent. As much as I love exploring new places, that’s not how I want to live my life.
But for now…I suppose I’ll focus on work and discovering our next destination, until I’m ready to have my heart bruised again. Because two days isn’t long enough to fall in love, but it’s enough time to fall in like, to know you want more. It’s certainly enough time for me to catch feelings, even while I’m packing for my next flight.
