My life is like the television series 24.
by John Griffith
Pack an entire seasons worth of emotions, stories, details, encounters into one twenty-four hour period and that happens every day. I’m not saying I frequently find myself in situations where I need to disarm some nuclear bomb in 24 hours – rather, as a traveler, most of the people I meet and situations I find myself in, are fleeting – at best.
I fell in love.
Just like that. I'm not necessarily a believer in love at first sight, but if it exists, this was it. The night we met, I got stood up. I was supposed to be on a date with some musician who flaked or forgot me, and in a somewhat disheartening mood, I headed to the pub alone, to sit and drink and watch football.
by MarthouliIn walks Ben. Ben was tall, beautiful and – though I rarely double-take – I found myself glancing back at him after initial eye-contact. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then took a seat next to me at the bar. He wasn't overly forward; didn't strike up a conversation and certainly didn't throw me a cheesy pickup line. I was chatting with some older men at the bar; some regulars of a genre I find who will exchange a drink for a chance of meaningful conversation in a lonely pub, and nothing more. I opened my body contact a bit to encourage interaction from my new eye candy, but he was polite and never contributed more than a smile or a soft laugh into his pint. So I engaged. I took a social cue from a prior giggle that he was into sports, so I idly asked the bartender for some good sports bar recommendations to watch the Superbowl – which as it turns out, is nearly impossible when not in the US.
Hook.
Naturally, my old men friends took a back seat as I spent the next hour or so engulfed in anything and everything Ben would tell me. Every answer was perfect; a life that fit nearly perfectly with my own. He had an incredible smile, a gorgeous personality and the most attractive outlook on life I have seen in a while. Successful (a rarity, I find among those of us who call travel our semi-full-time lifestyle choice), educated, sociable.
Hooked.
From here, our romance was typical. We went to bars, grabbed food, made mutual friends. We gradually shifted our conversations from sports and the weather to our families, religion, future plans. But there were still no red flags. Our chemistry was perfect; our conversations insanely fluid. He complimented me constantly - which, honestly - is a drug I would recommend to anyone and everyone. He painted this beautiful picture of our life together.
Our first kiss was epic. 
by DeeyhordeeBeing an avid watcher of Dawson’s Creek growing up, I’d always envisioned my first kiss with the right guy to involve some sort of fight, makeup, rain drenched hair and a down-right good guy. This was pretty much that – which I imagine is quite easier to achieve with the constant raininess in Ireland – I digress.
There were obviously many kisses to follow – most of them not involving any rain at all. There was a lot of hand-holding, hours of cuddling in front of the tv and just enough bickering to keep things interesting. Ben loved my hair – which happens to be one my loves as well. He was constantly messing with it, brushing it from my face, playfully pulling it, bothering me by running his hands all through it and messing up my perfect ponytail or greasing it up with his amazingly perfect hands.
We had found this perfect asymmetry; two completely separate and windy roads that somehow converged at this strange moment in an Irish pub and then continued on an even windier path but side by side. There was nothing normal about the relationship, but then again, there was really nothing normal about either of our lives to begin with. We slept we woke, we breathed, we kissed; that was all that mattered.
by xrrrBut somewhere along the way, our paths unhooked.
Almost as fast as it began. We drifted a bit. The conversations ceased to be as dynamic – the long pauses became more prevalent. But there were hints of normalcy that brought us both back. We would recognize them, hold each other tightly, sigh loudly and think of ways to make it work. Could it work? Is it possible for two completely different lives to actually converge without splitting up again and wandering back into familiarity?
As we watched the sun rise over Galway Bay, Ben started packing his bag. It was inevitable. I wasn't expecting anything different. But then again, I hadn't expected to fall this hard either.
Just like that, you're leaving?
Yes.
And that was it. I packed up my own belongings and walked towards the door. Ben stopped me and stalled a bit. Kisses and more stalling. He started to say something.
Maybe, I could... Never mind.
But I knew at this point that stalling was just going to make it harder for both of us to split the road back up on our own way. So I gave him one last kiss and left.
I sat that whole day down by the
Galway Bay sea where the Corrib river meets Galway Bay and watched the tide roll in and out. I watched the birds flutter about and the tourists walk around with their cameras, hoping that I'd be in the right place if he decided to change his mind. I knew the likelihood of just that happening and it was not in my favor, but I didn't want to chance it. After all, I could modify my plans, change a couple plane tickets here and there, meet up in a couple months. You could stay a couple days longer, make some changes to your trip.
Less than 24 hours before, I hadn't even known this character.
And just like that, I remembered this cycle. It had seemed vaguely familiar before, but now the pattern was clear; this hook and release.
It had happened before, and it would happen again. Antonio broke my heart in Paris. He was the first of my travel loves. I was not his first though, and we all know how well that usually ends. Then there was Neil; he stuck around a bit, but ultimately, left me for Egypt – I can't compete with Egypt. Steve was the first one I thought might actually work. He did change his plans for me – but only once. He left me in Prague. Then finally Thomas. He stayed in my life for a while – virtually at least – but eventually I drifted. As one of us usually does.
No, Ben wasn't my first, and he certainly wouldn't be my last. I just hadn't formed that bond in a while – as my last long-term trip was over 2 years ago – I'd almost forgotten what it was like. That doesn't mean that the feelings weren't real. They were. But I find that as travelers, we are able to open up our hearts quicker, and close them back up quicker. When you are constantly moving, it's difficult to find anyone who catches your attention for longer than lets-make-out-in-a-bar. So when we find that, I think we're capable of allowing the emotions to run their course quicker. A sort of micro-relationship, if you will.
In a couple weeks, I'll be in a new town, a new country, even. I'll fall again, I'm sure of that.