The morning is coming. It is time to put myself together. It is time to get dressed. It is time to leave.
I admire her as she lays there, sleeping, tired from the previous night’s debauchery. Continue reading »
Reason #8,832,122 why hostel living is the best! 😀
I also get the chance to meet a very crazy and interesting local as well as enter a haunted house. 😉
Seriously, why are Italian guys so damn creepy?! I would like to now posit this statement and give you some examples: Italian Guys ARE Creepy. That, as you will soon see, is simply true.
But why, oh why, are they? That I honestly don’t know.
She draws you in… you never thought you would get her and, even when you knew it was going to happen you had no concept of the ecstasy that would ensue.
She is cute and you have no idea of the beauty that lies beneath those plain looking clothes. You assume that maybe a kiss will ensue, as has happened a thousand times before, and it does. Soft skin, kind eyes, an annoyingly loud voice as only a South American can manage, and a comically bad kisser.
It is not until the next night that you realize that this, as of yet just another kiss, is not just another kiss.
The particulars are unimportant but I have often said that you can tell a lot about a woman by the way her warm body presses up against yours as you lay in bed, fading off into sleep. An uncomfortable person is hard; they feel cold; they feel uneasy, unsettled; their breathing is off and their hands don’t know where to rest; they simply don’t fit.
The comfortable person, they fit so perfectly against your body because they know they belong there, at this point in time, this is where they are supposed to be. Their breathing compliments yours; their hands lay perfectly on your chest; their body warms yours; their soul rests perfectly with yours as if all the stars in the heavens have aligned just for you.
The next day you must leave. You know something is different about this girl. You spend the rest of the day together, you may even hold hands for a moment; you kiss passionately in the museum’s elevator; her friend gives you a private moment to say goodbye. This is the end…
But I am a fighter and there is one thing above all else for which I will fight, the feeling that I had the night before as I was falling asleep with this beauty.
I brave a 20 hour bus ride to meet-up with her this time. I arrive a day early and plan to be well rested for her arrival… this did not happen – after one hour of sleep the night before, I see my beauty wandering around the train station with a suitcase as big as her. My body wants to die I hurt so much from the previous night but just the sight of her, this creature of beauty and warmth, lights a fire inside of me.
After checking into the hotel I can barely remember the next 12 hours. For this 12 hour long moment I know nothing but that which is wholly and completely mine and of which I am wholly and completely hers. I can’t remember a time I have felt this way with anyone, so perfectly complete in this moment.
I have broken the rule of lovers but, in the moment (as is always the case), nothing else matters.
The best thing was that this person, this creature, was so much more than just this moment – hard working, curious almost as much as myself, cute, quirky, and everything else that you should not notice about a lover because of the fact that they are just your lover.
I made a mistake from which I can no longer return. Once our days are up in this city we must part ways. I knew this moment was coming but chose not to prepare myself. It is more difficult for me to accept because I know that I could buy a ticket to see her the very next day; but that violates the rules of lovers, rules of which I am well aware, as is she; these rules, I have wanted nothing more than to break them.
I’d like to talk about something that affects me, especially as a traveler. Though, don’t expect any racy photos, just a bit about life, love, and lovers.
As a traveler, I find myself almost comically alone. I say that because, though I may meet 10, 20, or even more people every day that I am actively traveling, I am still perpetually alone. This is why a lover can be so important and have such an impact on a traveler’s life.
They provide a level of comfort almost equal to that of a true companion without most of the drawbacks of a real relationship. Before I continue, I want to make it very clear that this is different than the fickle notion of a “fuck-buddy” or a one-night-stand. These encounters are nothing more than a replacement for a right-hand. A lover is so much more.
A lover can get you through the tough times in your life; a lover can comfort you and put a smile on your face when no one else can; a lover doesn’t necessarily leave before you wake up and, hell, she might even make you breakfast once; a lover’s smile always makes you happy; and, most important, a lover helps you relax and feel an ultimate sense of tranquility before, during, and after what might have been a tornado of an evening the likes of which you may not otherwise indulge.
But, alas, a lover is not and cannot be permanent. Otherwise she would not be a lover. Never forget that the lover is not your significant other; she is not your girlfriend and you need to keep it that way. The lover is no more than a prescription pain killer – it doesn’t cure the source of the problem, it just covers up the problem for that moment and takes you to another world.
This is why the lover cannot be permanent. She cannot be your girlfriend or all of the remedies that she provides will be gone. If you see her every day, she will not be able to take you away from that which you experience every day; if you talk to her all the time, she has become something more, something real, quickly nullifying the effect of the lover.
Most important, however, is that you not ever, under any circumstance, fall for your lover; and, if she is great, hell amazing, instead of just good, you may end up falling for her. But, she is your lover and not your love. The second that you fall for your lover is the second that the pain that she helped to alleviate becomes a thousand times worse. She will never love you back and loving a ghost is worse than loving nothing at all.
Fairy tale travelers are just the worst travelers, and probably the worst people, in the world! Let’s talk about these lovely people, why I hate them, and why you are probably one of them, and maybe me sometimes too but hey, can’t be perfect all the time.
This is what happened when Britney Spears fucked a Leprechaun…
All kidding aside, I was terrified, mortified, and hysterically laughing when I saw this walk into my hostel in Dublin at 4am. My God, Dublin is a fucking crazy city – don’t bring your children here, that’s for sure!