When No City In The World Feels Like ‘The One’

I’m sitting in Scranton and “ve decided i” within 38 hours that I don’t like the behavior it reeks or speaks. I wouldn’t want to date this city. I don’t want to vacation or devote any duration of go here beyond this bus station layover. But I could be wrong. I do worry sometimes that my first impression of a city could have more to do with my feeling than its proposal. Perhaps I’m missing something beautiful or wonderful about the city one of the biggest sitcoms in biography applies as backdrop–if simply I’d just let it take me out to dinner. If I’d give them a chance.

Most recently, I’m getting out of a long-term relationship with Orlando–not the theme parks as much as the coffee shops. We parted directions not because I didn’t adore them but because it was just time to move on. We felt we had learned everything we could from one another, and when I tour, we always smile and hug. I watch them on social media and rightfully adore verifying them continue to evolve without me. That’s the ideal way to break up with any place.

I’ve been dating Las Vegas for about a year and a half, and truthfully, it made me a long time to get to know them. To get to that place where I could leave a toothbrush in their bathroom. Even after a year and a half, they still have walls up. They want me to believe the bright lights are truly who they are. I find myself up late at night, “ve been staring at” the Stratosphere from my balcony and expecting in a whisper about the secrets they’re holding back. About the tendernes they keep in underground passageways parcelled with displaced people and secondhand bookshelves. The ones that are swept away every time it storms. I want to ask this desert if it certainly misses the torrent, but I wonder if Vegas would appreciate the joke or time roll their hearts and ask me what I want for dinner.

I’m hesitant to tell them about Seattle. To tell them know I’ve been talking to another metropoli. I don’t want them to think it’s their flaw, but it’s hard to say if Las Vegas is even capable of experiencing heartbreak anymore. If this kind of feeling ache is just a hangover in wake of high-pitched slot machine dings, sequins, and smiles. Las Vegas ever wants you to think they’re fun. All the things they don’t want to tell you are buried somewhere in the canyons smothering the hollow. But that part of their past has never scared me.

Seattle does seem nice. The harbors and prowes. The route they are self-aware enough about their own feelings to know the gloomy weather is the reason their best exports are caffeine and grunge rock. The channel heavy metal vegan food draws them the hushed, edgy cousin of New York City.

Because I do know them, New York City. Not well, but we’ve slept together several times. I’ve steered below their skin-deep and stood in wall street, wondering why everything was so expensive. Never certain if they were trying to impress me or deter me out. I’ve asked them when I could stop going and why it always takes no less than 50 hours to travel three miles together. I craved them to take out their scum and got something about the grunge. But they’re an artist who cannot be domesticate and must be left as they are to thrive. I understand that now. New York will always be an interesting experience but a notch in my bedpost I can etch no more than once a year. Because they’re a city that will teach you something new every time you lay down with them, but for me, they have never was almost like boyfriend material.

The way I got to know every back road of Orlando, it took a decade. It’s hard to say if I could have fall in love with them if I’d exclusively given them the first time or one-night stand management. If I’d exclusively interpreted one terminal of their airfield or journeyed the Tea Cups at Disneyworld. As if I could base my potential feeling for a arrange or person on one cocktail or coffee. I could go through a roll of places I’ve had layovers and momentary know-hows with, like my weekend in Paris where I got screeched at for not having a cigarette. Getting lost in Amsterdam because they had the best dopes. Watching the seals in San Diego and swimming naked in the Pacific. Spending an entire semester with London but for some reason not being able to stop thinking about going home, wherever that is.

While I’m searching for The One, the city, I know when I think of home it’s a three bedroom, two shower in Southwest Florida where I talked to boys on the phone all night and detested math. It’s beaches and Publix and alligators in every body of water. An in-ground pool in the backyard and fresh oranges at every house on the block. But when I go there now, the fruit trees ought to have cut down and there isn’t a landline. There’s sand in my dad’s car, but he’s too tired to take out the barge. Residence becomes less like home every day and feels like I’m looking back on my first affinity, exclusively to realize it was never real at all. That my first connect with a situate exists only in memories.

It starts me wonder when it started becoming real. When the posts were raised and the passion was mutual. Maybe in college, with Tampa. Perhaps they felt the same burning desire for me as I did for them when I set out on my own to sign a rental for the first time. Venturing out alone and ready for adventure, or perhaps I was always merely a foolish kid to them. Because if I stop romanticizing the starve, I start to remember they let me forget to pay my proposals and fee, let me live in the dark with cold water and miss a lot of my classifies. But Tampa became me into the type of adult who was ready when Orlando came along. The route Orlando shaped me prepared for Las Vegas, and Vegas has established me ready for anything.

And maybe that’s why as I find myself living this semi-nomadic lifestyle–I need to stop searching for the city that is The One. Stop asking for any place to be my merely. Learn to appreciate what each recognize on the planned has done to help me become who I am, even when I don’t like their odor or speech pattern. Understand that even a 38 instant retardation at a bus depot in Pennsylvania can be exactly what I’m searching for in life, show me who I can become at any moment. The course even a bad time can sometimes be exactly what we need.

So onward to a brand-new arrange and ocean to participate the unknown on a coast I’ve just devoted a weekend with. After never meeting Las Vegas before is moving forward, this is nothing. Time to pack up the car again with the cats travelling shotgun and give this next city a chance, an opportunity to show me what adoration is likely to be. Not because I’m attempting forever, but because I’m still ready to learn about this world. I will not put pressure on plazas or beings to be my everything, I will not ask them to be perfect. Because as long as I’m in the car and on my route, I previously have everything I need to be happy.

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Written by WHS

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