Date a boy who travels. Date a boy who treasures experience over
toys, a hand-woven bracelet over a Rolex. Date the boy who scoffs when
he hears the words, "vacation," "all-inclusive" or "resort." Date a boy
who travels because he's not blinded by a single goal but enlivened by
many.
You might find him in an airport or at a book store browsing the travel guides -- although he "only uses them for reference."
You'll know it's him because when you peek at his computer screen his
background will be a scenic splendor of rolling hills, mountains or
prayer flags. His Facebook friend count will be over-the-roof and his
wall will be plastered with the broken English 'miss-you' of friends he
met along the way. When he travels he makes lifelong friends in an hour.
And although contact with these friends is sporadic and may be
far-between his bonds are unmessable and if he wanted he could couch
surf the world... again.
Buy him a beer. Maybe the same brand that he wears on the singlet
under his plaid shirt, unable to truly let go. Once a traveller gets
home people rarely listen to his stories. So listen to him. Allow him to
paint a picture that brings you into his world. He might talk fast and
miss small details because he's so excited to be heard. Bask in his
enthusiasm. Want it for yourself.
He'll squeak like an excited toddler when his latest issue of
National Geographic
arrives in the mail. Then he'll grow quiet, engrossed, until he
finishes his analysis of every photo, every adventure. In his mind he'll
insert himself in these pictures. He'll pass the issue on to you and
grill you about your dreams and competitively ask about the craziest
thing you've ever done. Tell him. And know that he'll probably win. And
if by chance you win, know that his next lot in life will be to out do
you. But then he'll say, "Maybe we can do it together."
Date the boy who talks of distant places and whose hands have
explored the stone relics of ancient civilizations and whose mind has
imagined those hands carving, chiseling, painting the wonders of the
world. And when he talks it's as if he's reliving it with you. You can
almost hear his heart racing. You can almost feel the adrenaline ramped
up by the moment. You feel it passing through his synapsis, a feast to
his eyes entering through those tiny oracles of experience that we call
pupils, digesting rapidly through his veins, manifesting into his
nervous system, transforming and altering his worldview like a reverse
trauma and finally passing but forever changing the colors of his sight.
(Unless he's Karl Pilkington.) You will want this too.
Date a boy who's lived out of a backpack because he lives happily
with less. A boy who's travelled has seen poverty and dined with those
who live in small shanties with no running water, and yet welcome
strangers with greater hospitality than the rich. And because he's seen
this he's seen how a life without luxury can mean a life fueled by
relationships and family rather than a life that fuels fancy cars and
ego. He's experienced different ways of being, respects alternative
religions and he looks at the world with the eyes of a five-year-old,
curious and hungry. Your dad will be happy too because he's good with
money and knows how to budget.
This boy relishes home; the comfort of a duvet, the safety stirred in
a mom-cooked meal, the easy conversation of childhood friends and the
immaculate glory of the flush-toilet. Although fiercely independent, he
has had time to reflect on himself and his relationships. Despite his
wanderlust he knows and appreciates his ties to home. He has had a
chance to miss and be missed. Because of this he also knows a thing or
two about goodbyes. He knows the overwhelming uncertainty of leaving the
comforts of home, the indefinite see-you-laters at the departure gates
and yet he fearlessly goes into the unknown because he knows the feeling
of return. And that the I've-missed-you-hug is the best type of hug in
the whole world. He also knows that goodbyes are just prolonged
see-you-laters and that 'hello' is only as far away as the nearest
internet cafe.
Don't hold onto this boy. Let this boy go and go with him. If you
haven't travelled, he will open your eyes to a world beyond the news and
popular perception. He will open your dreams to possibility and
reality. He will calm your nerves when you're about to miss a flight or
when your rental blows a flat because he knows the journey is the
adventure. He will make light of the unsavory noises you make when you
-- and you will -- get food poisoning. He will make you laugh through
the discomfort all while dabbing your forehead with a cold cloth and
nursing you with bottled water. He will make you feel like you're home.
When you see something beautiful he will hold your hand in silence,
in awe the history of where his feet stand and the fact that you're with
him.
He will live in every moment with you because this is how he lives
his life. He understands that happiness is no more than a string of
moments that displace neutrality and he is determined to tie as many of
these strings together as he can. He also understands your need to live
for yourself and that you have a bucket list of your own. Understand
his. Understand that your goals may at some points differ but that
independence is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship when it's
mutually respected. You may lose him for a bit but he will always come
home bearing a new story and a souvenir he picked up because it reminded
him of you, like it was made for you and because he missed you. You
might be compelled to do the same. Make sure that independence is on
your bucket list and make sure it's checked. Independence will keep your
relationship fresh and exciting and when you're together again it will
forge a bond of unbreakable trust.
He'll propose when you've breached your comfort-zone, whether it is a
fear like skydiving or swimming with sharks or sitting next to the
smelly person on an overcrowded bus. It won't be with a diamond ring but
with a token from a native culture or inspired by nature, like the
penguin and the pebble.
You will get married somewhere unassumed, surrounded by a select few
in a moment constructed to celebrate venturing into the unknown together
again. Marry the boy who's travelled and together you will make the
whole world your home. Your honeymoon will not be forgotten to a buffet
dinner and all-you-can-drink beach bars, but will be remembered in the
triumphant photographs at the top of Kilimanjaro and memorialized in the
rewarding ache of muscles at the end of a long days hike.
When you're ready you will have children that have the names of the
characters you met on your journeys, the foreign names of people who dug
a special place in your heart if only for a few days. Perhaps you will
live in another country and your children will learn of language and
customs that open their minds from the very start, leaving no room for
prejudice. He will introduce them to the life of Hemingway, the journey
of Santiago, and empower them to live even bigger than both of you.
Marry a boy who travels and he'll teach your children the beauty of a
single stone, the history of the Incas and he will instill in them the
bravery of possibility. He will explain to them that masking opportunity
there is fear. He will teach them to concur it.
And when you're old you'll sit with your grandchildren poring over
your photo albums and chest of worldly treasures while they too insert
themselves into your photographs, sparked by the beauty of the world and
inspired by your life in it.
Find a boy who travels because you deserve a life of adventure and
possibility. You deserve to live light and embrace simplicity. You
deserve to look at life through the eyes of youth and with your arms
wide open. Because this is where you will find joy. And better, you will
find joy together. And if you can't find him, travel. Go. Embrace it.
Explore the world for yourself because dreams are the stuff reality is
made from.
Inspired by the work of Charles Warnke (You Should Date An Illiterate Girl) and Rosemarie Urquico (Date A Girl Who Reads).
Originally published on
Where Are My Heels.
Source Lena Desmond image from Gaen
