Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels

164698_660142369270_3966254_n[1]

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels, because a girl who travels wants nothing to do with conventional, formalised, American soap-opera’ed approaches to relationships. A girl who travels doesn’t ‘date’. She may do all the rest: flings, romances. Whirlpools. Strings and no strings. She can pull off the whole range – more or less well. But risks (chances?) are, she has no interest in this ‘dating’ business.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Make the most of every opportunity, like she does. Don’t politely swap numbers with the traveling girl you’ve been flirting with all night and pledge to ask her out later. Just kiss her already! And don’t be surprised if she’s already pushed you against a wall by the time you’ve decided to make your move. She doesn’t expect you to be out of a nineteenth century novel. She doesn’t care that you’re drunk, that you both are. The rules can go to hell. She’s learnt to trust her instincts, to sense instant connections. And she’s too spontaneous and passionate not to act on them.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Take her on an adventure. Or, let her take you on one. Relax: it needn’t be fancy, or perfect. Forget about maintenance. There’s no pressure to wine-dine her. She’s learnt to revel in the small pleasures and to conjure up fun and excitement in most situations. You don’t need to – actually, you most probably can’t – impress her with money and status. All she’s really interested in is your company. She’s not the fussy kind: she’ll enthusiastically eat street food, sleep in tents and drink in shabby holes. Don’t spend hours planning it out thoroughly. Really, she rarely sticks to plans. She’s happy to go with the flow. She just wants to live every moment to the full.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Hang out with her. She doesn’t need you to take care of her, she does that very well on her own. She has no use for stereotypes and antiquated notions about gender roles. She’s not looking for a prince or a crutch; what she wants is a friend, a sidekick, a partner in crime. You don’t need to worry about ‘treating’ her this way or that. She’s cool just goofing around with you.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Engage with her. She may be opinionated, but she’s also open-minded. She’s seen enough to understand that nothing is black and white. She didn’t throw her brains away with her career. For every ‘wasted’ university degree she has a life lesson or experience to share. She may not make a nice trophy for your family and friends, but she’s not about to run out of things to talk about with you or them. She may stand her ground and argue, but you can bet she’s genuinely interested – and when she listens, she listens.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Get involved with her. She may be fiercely independent, but she’s more convinved than ever of the value of sharing. Don’t fret, either: she’s not in the market for a husband. She’s not out to have your babies. Her immediate priorities probably lie miles away, in all these other places she wants to (re)visit, these new things she wants to try (sure, with you – if you care to join). It doesn’t mean that she’ll never want these things either – but hey, let’s not project ourselves too quickly, shall we? Let’s just take things as they come and see where it goes…

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels. Be alive with her. Kick off your shoes and say yes; say why not.

Don’t ‘date’ a girl who travels.

But do get sucked into her tornado.

This is

not the first time, this is
not the first time.
We part in a backstreet,
somewhere narrow and black.
Look at my bile
dripping from the lamppost. I’ll mop
it up later. We part
for good. You think this is morning
in spite of this whole night
shadowing us.
I suck my thumb, not nearly weaned.
I’ve lived too many lives.
The premise is
silence.

I will never be young again,
and this is what my youth is like. Gotta love it
this mess. We are survivors of the plague,
our faces slightly scarred.
For two hours burning from a lack of belief
we sat in the cafe antagonised.
The stupor was the same when Antigone agonised
in a Theban household, over
duties to love.
I talk Agon, I could talk lies. You feel
nothing, I know.

I was not asked to sit and wait
in vain, but I wait like no one. O
do tell me again why it is we are doomed
and I should feel sated. I am not just
half-starved. I do wonder handsome
at your Babel babble and your nut for a heart.
I do wonders with nulls.

(For two hours sitting and risking all at once:
talking the talk, breaking the news
to a dead tree. Your hair is a concern;
the rest may simply burn. Freedom is many things;
your freedom is a boat, and no freedom
to some. I did single you out,
undo the knot.)

But to think, to think –

The bile, plop plop. Look at
the dark the fog the rats:
you think that a morning?
I must be put to bed
and cured with medicines.

I bite my mind’s tongue
with two lids
and this rack of eye whips.

Days go by meaningless
now I sweat a sickness.