She’s the one with the messy unkempt hair coloured by the sun. She’s that girl who will never need you. She’s busy living in the present. She will meet so many interesting, like-minded people from around the world who share her passions and dreams. She will be bored of you. So never date a girl that travels unless you can keep up with her. And if you unintentionally fall in love with one, don’t you dare keep her. Let her go.
The above is why I hate the internet. And people. And thus even more the internet, being the plague that decided to give a voice to all people. (I deserve one by the way).
Those lines were extracted from a viral travel blogger article that keeps appearing on my facebook feed, entitled don’t date a girl who travels. The reason for its constant appearance is that I have met too many douchebag travellers this year who have added me on facebook. I have hence defriended all those women who posted it on facebook. Not just for that, but because I had wanted to cull of recent, and this seemed an apt opportunity to make some easy decisions as to who to lose.
I don’t know why this article has given me such a strong urge to riposte, but it could be the half-empty (or half full?) bottle of whiskey laying by my side; the no doubt beginnings of alcoholism that the solitary confines of a one man apartment inevitably carry. It could also be that I have a subconscious envy that has amalgamated itself into a deep-seeded vendetta against all travel bloggers due to their success and my lack of, despite the infinitely greater quality of acts of adventure and in turn their recalling that one once found here. Or perhaps more simply, the anger I feel only arises from a more unchangeable envy; maybe I just wish I was a girl who travels.
Possibly a combination of all three, though such motives bare little importance, the point is I’m here and I’m annoyed. I’ve been travelling, and I have a message for long-term travellers. You generally suck. Yes, you do. And no-one wants to date you because you are shit, and have no real friends. So tuk-tuk yourself off to the next bar and make some temporary drinking friends, before spending an evening with an Indian family because you are from the west and then answer all their questions about the west like you did with every other family who invited you into their house because you’re from the west. I’ve had more adventures in a drunken Milanese Friday night than you’ve had in 3 years in stinking Tibet. So go do one.
Thank you for listening,