Love
How To Do It On The Road
People always wonder how travel writers date. Or maybe people don’t. Either way, I’m in the mood to tell you about my love life, so buckle up.
I have been asked—as a travel writer, as a single woman, as a Gemini—“How do you find men who don’t mind that you’re gone all the time?”
I don’t have a great answer, in part because I reject the premise. I don’t tell men I’m interested in, “Look, I’m gone all the time and you’d better just deal.” I’ve always assumed that if I meet a sexy and humble dog-owner with a sharp sense of direction who knows how to make fun of me properly and thinks I look hot in my writing uniform, which is a floor-length bathrobe, I’ll just…travel less.
My identity is inextricably bound to my writing, but not to travel writing specifically. That is, I need to write, but I don’t need to travel. (If that claim gives you “I could quit anytime” vibes, that’s fair.)
