There’s No Place Like Home

People keep telling me that I’m not going to come back. Everyone seems convinced that I’m going to land in Melbourne, lock eyes with a large Australian and tell my roommate back home to sell my bed and ship me my favourite novels.

I’m not sure why everyone feels this way. Maybe they’re a tad psychic and seeing into my future? Or maybe they’re just tired of me being single (y’know, since I’m so awesome) and know that this year is The Year. Either way, people -even people who don’t say stuff like this- are telling me that I’m going to fall in love and never come home.

I really can’t believe it.

First off, everyone was convinced my trip to Europe was going to be a non-stop makeout train. People were excited for me to totally bone hot guys in new countries. No. Not so much. The closest I got was walking a new friend back to his hostel; I’m pretty sure he grabbed my boob as he steadied himself and tried not to vomit all over Prague’s gorgeous cobbles. SCORE! Not. Makeout trains don’t tend to stop at my station very often.

Second, I’m not going over there looking for love. Would it be amazing to get off the plane and have some stocky, bearded stranger* help me with my bag and say something charming like “Come to the pub and I’ll buy you a beer”, and then we fall in love over pints of VB**, my fake naivety of footy***, and our shared love of mid-90s rap music? Yes. Of course it would. That sounds like pretty much the most perfect date ever! However…

I love Toronto. I love the people, the city, the food, the vibe. Despite the odd unhappy day, I love my life here. Toronto really is my home, and I can’t imagine leaving it forever, no matter how thick the beard. And yes, things happen and people change…but right now, I’m pretty sure I’m going to call Toronto home until I die.

This trip isn’t about finding a husband. I’m not pulling a stunt or chasing some accent. Really, this move is turning out to be more about  ME than anything else. Yes, saying “I’m going somewhere to find myself” sounds new-agey and cliche, but I think it might turn out to be true. I really haven’t been myself for the better part of a year, so I hope I can figure out where I went and realize I’ve been hiding under a giant, freaky bat all along. I want to make money so I can travel, of course, but more importantly I’m excited to take some time and figure out what the hell I want. I want to write and exercise, work in a coffee shop, and visit vegetable markets during the daytime. I want to do a comedy show at 11pm and not worry about waking up at 6:30am. I want to volunteer with an event company and get some experience while I have the time and the worry off my back. I want to figure out who this chick I hang out with really is.

Do I think I’ll go to Australia and find the man of my dreams? No. But I’m hoping I’ll fall in love again and again while I’m there, and come back home with an amazing woman.

 

*Recently came to the realization that stocky guys with beards are my ‘type’. The past few men I’ve dated, crushed on or thought naughty things about had beards. Manly!
**This is the only Australian beer I know about.
***I actually know the rules and quite like the game.

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