So, Tuesday marked my grand departure, and I would be lying if I tried to tell you that my morning was not a tearful one. I’ve traveled before. For longer than this! But I never had a significant other to miss back home. (other than my cat, and yes, I am being so serious) In fact, before, I made sure that I had no one back home before I left. I avoided such things so that I would feel more free, and have no one to answer to back home.
I will admit that this is difficult. I am having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that I will be gone for so long. And you are thinking, “Oh, you poor thing. You’re traveling for how long and you’re bummed because you miss a boy? Pooooor thing.” End sarcasm. I deserve no sympathy because I did this to myself. I didn’t have to leave the country. Certainly not for so long. I just… didn’t think it would be so tough.
When I recalled my last jaunt, I remembered how free and uninhibited I felt, the delight of living every day without anyone’s input. And it was with these memories in mind that I booked my plane tickets with a gap of four months between my departure and return. Now maybe this will sounds silly, but I have fallen unfathomably deeper in love with Michael since I booked those tickets.
It wasn’t until the night before I left that it really started to hit me. But he’s been nothing short of incredible and understanding. In a previous relationship, I left for France for seven weeks during summer break. He who shall not be named was unbearably foul while I was gone (and the rest of the time that we were together, now that I can recall that time with clarity). He would tell me how he was so depressed and it was all my fault because I was gone, and how I didn’t pay enough attention to him, and I obviously didn’t care, and there was nothing in the world that could possibly make him feel good other than me returning home.
One thing that I was able to take from that relationship was the following conclusion: “Whoever I date must: a. want to travel. b. be ok with my going by myself if they are unable to join me.”
Michael fits into both of these categories, but unfortunately is unable to join me. One of the best things though is that he has been unfalteringly supportive of my plans. He never once uttered words to the effect of “I don’t want you to go.” He has told me how amazing he thinks this is, and has just said how much he will miss me. I’m a lucky girl.
So, back to Tuesday morning. We woke up, had some breakfast, and I finished putting my bags together. We played some Dr. Mario, and somehow four hours had passed. My mum came round so that they could drop me off at the airport together, but she felt unwell, so she bid me adieu and left. A little bit later, Michael drove me to the airport. My flight was due to depart at 1:50, but I was checked in and my bags were both carry on, so we left around 1. Oh, how I love to push time limits!
We said goodbye at the curb, but without tears. It was as though we had come to terms with everything when we had cried together earlier that morning. One last hug, a wave goodbye, and into the airport I went. Through security and to the gate, and by that time, the plane was ready to board. Off to LA for plane journey one of three!