Love A Girl Who Loves To Travel

Love a girl who travels: She is learning how to be beautiful in her own skin and accept who she is.

She can get ready to go in under 30 minutes, either with unkempt hair or dressed to the nines. She can get dirty; she has stayed in villages and homestays with no showers or electricity, and has partied on rooftops at five-star hotels in Bangkok.

She doesn’t need to wear make-up—or maybe there just wasn’t any time to put it on—but sometimes she likes to because it makes her feel good. She is radiant and loves being outdoors, with or without sun-kissed skin. Perhaps she has scars from bug bites or falling off her scooter, but she is proud of them and wears them like badges of courage.

She has traded in her corporate attire for shorts, hoodies and flip flops; her wardrobe may not be extensive, but she makes it work because she realizes that it’s not the clothes that make the woman. Her best accessories are her personality, her attitude and her sense of adventure—no expensive jewelry can outshine that. She is culture-rich, takes value in the little things and has a tremendous amount of compassion.

Love a girl who travels: She has stepped out of her comfort zone and is learning to be comfortable with the uncomfortable

She has a different calling than others—not better or worse— just different. She has learned to deal with her fear of bugs, snakes, rabid dogs, and rats. She may still scream, but she can handle it. She loves adventure, loves new things and new places. She is ambitious and challenges life. She is truly low maintenance and can carry her own luggage. She has seen remarkable things and wants to see more. She has hilarious stories of misfortune and can tell them with a twinkle in her eye. She has been knocked down both literally and figuratively, but always manages to get her shit back together.

Love a girl who travels: she is intelligent and resourceful.

She hasn’t “thrown away” her college degree, because all of her decisions in her life have led her to exactly thispoint. She may not have a corporate job and she hates when people ask her when she is going to get back to “normal” or the “real world.”

She is creative and resourceful. She will find a way to network, create opportunities and make money to keep her going. She is getting an education she couldn’t get in school, and is following her passion. She loves to share stories, insights or shampoo, just don’t mess with her iPod because it has been with her every day providing a soundtrack for her memories.

Love a girl who travels: She has fears. She has worries. She is out forging her own path in the world, and is afraid, in some way, every day.

She hasn’t turned her back on society or her responsibilities. She has freed herself of certain pressures by making sacrifices in other ways. She has no regrets about this. She is afraid but she refuses to let the fear control her, and instead faces it head on. She is strong but is also in touch with her vulnerability. She has moments when she is envious of those who have chosen a different path, but she also keeps faith  that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.

Love a girl who travels: She knows the value of relationships and of connections.

If she sits next to a stranger, they’ll be sharing a meal in no time. She also knows that most travel friendships have an expiration date, and so she lives in the moment. She is appreciative of time together. She is grateful for her life and all that she has seen. She is an excellent conversationalist. She is always willing to either offer advice based on her experiences, or to take yours. She is both resilient and inspirational to others.

She also knows the value of her relationships at home. She misses those people every day which makes the time she can spend with them so very special. She relishes her Skype and FaceTime with her loved ones, and she knows how to use technology and imagination to remain in the hearts and minds of those she hasn’t seen in ages.  

Love a girl who travels: She is fiercely independent—almost to a fault.

She may have trouble asking for your help, but if you ask for her help, you won’t be disappointed. She knows a genuine offer when she hears it. She is impressed by actions, not by words. She can be stubborn, but once you’re in, you’re in for life.

Love a girl who travels.

Love a girl who has traveled.

Love a girl who wants to travel.

No matter how beautiful the sunsets, how amazing the food, how fascinating the culture or traditions, she knows that the most important things are the memories she has made, and the people she has met along the way.

Love this girl and you will never want to let her go. She may be a bit tough to keep up with at first, but trust me it’s worth it. She hasn’t given up and neither should you.

Love a girl who travels—even if you don’t understand her—because she is following her own path.

Love this girl whether she is your friend, sister, daughter, aunt or love interest.

Love this girl, but don’t ever ask her when she’s getting back to her “normal” life. She has created her own “normal,” and that alone is a truly beautiful thing.

To The One Who Loves Her Next

To the one who loves her next,

She’s terrified of spiders. So when you’re out late with friends and she texts you freaking out because there’s one on her window, please go kill it. She won’t sleep otherwise.

She is a total textbook introvert. She won’t reply for hours and sometimes you won’t see her for a week. You will take this personally. Don’t. She’s simply taking care of herself and she’ll tell you how much she missed you while she was away.

She’ll get very jealous. My god, she gets so jealous. Those blue eyes will turn a deep green. She hates that about herself, and she doesn’t mean to do it. Remember, she loves you. Reassure her that you love her too.

On that topic, she needs constant reassurance. Tell her you love her and mean it. If you can’t do that, leave. She deserves more than that.

There will be nights when she goes out and drinks a little too much. She’ll call you to bring her home. When you do, she’ll try to keep you up all night by tickling you and repeating “I love you and I’m sorry I’m annoying.” She’s not annoying. But make sure she has plenty of water and don’t let her pass out until she drinks it, or she will be miserable in the morning.

She is the most independent woman I know. But she’s so insecure, it still breaks my heart. So when she starts an argument with “you don’t love me.” Do not get upset. Remind her you do and the reasons why. She’ll come around.

The cat comes first. Always. Don’t ever think otherwise.

Make her tea and remember the way she takes her coffee. She will notice.

When she’s having an anxiety attack, wrap her up in your arms and rub her back. Tell her she’s safe and remind her that she has medication if she needs it.

If you cannot treat her like royalty, let someone else. That girl deserves the world.

Losing her is a pain you will never shake. Your world will come crashing down on you and those pieces won’t ever fit the way they used to. Don’t let her go.

She will love you with all she’s got. Please give her the same.




I am begging you to not hurt her. She is golden. Don’t let that shine die out. Give her your all and she’ll return the favor. You will never have to ask the universe for anything ever again.

I promise you that because in my time with her, I never once asked for anything. I had it all. 

”

“Come sleep in my bed and kiss my neck/cheeks and when I start to cry because I am emotionally overwhelmed by how much I feel for you. Just whisper to me that you’ll fucking stay and if I cry even harder.. grab my shaking body, look me in the eyes, and say I’m all you need for all of forever, tell me you love me. Because you’re all I need forever. That night, let’s just get tangled up in each other our first night together. Let the alcohol on my lips pierce through your skin and permanently brand you mine; as your touch leaves burn marks of your fingerprints where you last touched my skin. Let me love you so passionately that you can feel the feelings I was so overwhelmed with consume your soul. Let your eyes roll back, moan my name as I moan yours back. Let’s just melt into one another as we both collapse from the pure adrenaline rush we just gave each other. Let me imprint on you, but let yourself fall into me. Let our love collide and make up the sky to our universe. I want you to be so captivated by the sky above us that I can see the stars in your eyes. I want you to find what we created to be pure beauty, but I want you to notice that I’m too busy looking at you because you’re the real beauty. From the little freckles on your nose, over to the one on your left ear, then all the way down to your matching freckles on your chest, stretching all the way down to your scars on your knees. I am ready to take this journey with you. I am scared, but with you I get a little braver each time. So take your pretty, cold little hand and put it in mine. What do you say?”

Timeline of our Love

“

July
You kiss me in your bed.
You sleep in my arms.
You kiss my cheeks and hug me tightly.
I tell all of my buddies you are probably the one.
And I think maybe you are.
I still do.

August 
I see you multiple times before we start school again.
I drive over at 2 am because I think you might not be there in the morning.
I may find pieces of you scattered across Northwest Ohio.
You say,
“I need you.”
And I throw on shoes and run,
Across any obstacle.
I kiss bleeding knuckles and bruised body parts, 
and I let you collapse into me,
I kiss your forehead and rub your back.
I spend the night,
but we do not have sex.
You kiss me deeply.
Baby, I love you..

September
The seasons change,
So do you.
Everything begins to fall, 
It’s still beautiful and so are you. 
You still look at me like I mean something to you. 
My heart is falling and I’m addicted to your love,
You look so majestic,
Was it all a dream?
“You are my dreams.”

October
I do not talk to anyone. 
I cover myself in blankets and hibernate until people worry. 
I tell them it’s fine, 
But I keep looking at photos of you.
The valley burns,
Smoke and ash,
Like a memory of a time that went bad. 
I wonder what being ash feels like. 
The house could cave in and I would stay still. 
Waiting.
I think of disappearing.
And I know,
that’s extreme and honest and a thought my friend tells me shouldn’t be so loud,
I remind her,
if I don’t tell someone,
maybe I may just.

You found me, 
You saw me. 
That’s what I needed. 
It begins to change.

November
You remembered my birthday,
You were the first. 
My heart ached to see you, 
But you didn’t want to. 
It’s okay. It’s okay. 
I love you, 
Take care of yourself.

December
It is two years since I confided in you about my life.
I put candles around me.
I light them,
immediately blow them out.
Feel a little like that’s what happened to me.
Extinguished.
Without a fucking warning.

January 
I do not tell my buddies you are probably the one because you left.
You’re now broken over another girl.
But I think you still are.
Irrationally.
Undoubtedly.
Now.
In street corners and random things,
I hide from friends,
I run from love.

February 
It’s your birthday, 
I couldn’t forget even if I were comatose. 
You’re older, 
Wiser. 
More beautiful than ever. 
I slowly leave quietly. 
Happy birthday.

March
It’s been awhile since I’ve heard from you. 
You managed to erase me from your memory, 
From your future.
You’re with her,
My heart sinks,
I’m okay though. 
You’re okay.

April
I’m learning to forgive. 
You’re still out chasing your desires,
I wish I were one of them. 
It’s okay, 
I’m not okay. 
I miss you, 
I didn’t ask for this. 
Fuck, 
I crave you,
I’m sorry.

May
You come back, 
Only for a little though. 
You had me, 
You have me still, 
I wish I could see you. 
I’m accepting reality. 
Slow dancer,
Won’t you stay?
You’re slowly dancing away,
Every turn into another direction. 
I’m still hypnotized, 
I can only watch you leave now.
I can’t move,
You’re stunning.

I am beginning to like her.
But not the way I felt for you.
I anonymously message you.
But I remind myself this is good.
This is different.
That not all things start in combustion,
some flames are small to start.
We are the kindling right now and maybe that’s okay.
But she’s still not you.
So while things still sit without labels,
I meet another girl.
She looks at me the way you did that night I wore the plaid dress shirt.
I want to ask her if she knows
the way she is looking at me
and that it smells like future and potential and I could kiss her. 
I kiss her in her house.

June
The girl I thought I liked,
slowly
let the fire build up with every touch,
But I tell her it isn’t really working.

I still love you,
I’m still in love. 
You’re not coming back. 
I wish I could see that,
But I hope that’s not the case.

I remember that you once said I would look good holding a baby,
which is a fucking weird thing to say to someone like me.
But my heart swelled,
I keep hearing you say it.
Over
and over.
It is my Lullaby
when I cannot sleep.

I’ve been thinking too much,
Of you loving me.

July 2015
I tell my best friend how uninterested I am in sex. 
I am fighting missing you again,
but then,
there you are.
You appear and everything feels like July 2014.
You are still in my pillowcase,
in the stands of my hair,
a ghost hanging out in my text messages.
I read them until I am nauseated with myself.
You are still my Fourth of July firework. 
All this time.
It’s still you.
It will always,
always
be you.

”

10 Ways To Say 'I LOVE YOU' Without Actually Saying It

Sometimes out of all the words in the English dictionary, the compilation of these these three words becomes the hardest to say. We always look for ways to make our 'special someone' feel 'special'. We Google on the ways and methods to make them smile.

Here are a few fail-proof ways of making your 'The One' happy and loved:

•  Letters and love notes written in unsuspecting ways and places. Chalk on the sidewalk. Written in sand and snow. Post it notes on the car windshield. Large poster board taped to the brick wall by the coffee shop frequented every morning. Tucked in the coat pocket or backpack or lunch box. Lipstick on the mirror. Sharpie on the wall and sheets, because some things deserve to be permanent.
  
• Give them Time. But not just any Time. A time full of your attention, love and without distractions of your cellphones etc.
• Be present. Know what is going on with the your partner. Observe.

  We check in with each other daily. We observe each other. We notice each others moods. We spend the evenings together sometimes doing something that needs to be done, sometimes not. We look forward to each other coming home at the end of the day.

  We share the same space when we can. We look forward to reuniting at the end of the day. Upon falling asleep, I take a deep breath and exhale and release, knowing that we are together and whatever the day brought, I am safe, secure and loved.

• Go to bed at the same time as your partner. Wake up at the same time, too.

  

  Of course, this doesn’t happen every night, or every morning. But, when it does, it feels good. Just this morning, I woke up as my husband was getting ready to head to work, even though I had the time this morning to catch another hour of sleep.

  He had a big day scheduled and the 30 minutes together this morning allowed me an opportunity to offer support, a kiss, and a good-bye and good luck. I was already with him as he journeyed into his day. And I did that for him because I knew he needed and wanted it.

• Do something helpful for your partner that is not typical for you.

  It’s natural to establish roles in our homes without even discussing them. The one who cooks—cooks. The one who cleans—cleans. The one who takes out garbage—takes out the garbage. We tend to stick with our duties, not necessarily questioning why it’s our role. Do an extra task that is typically the other person’s task. I love when my husband cooks, as that is typically my job, and I think he enjoys when I put an extra load of his laundry in, as he typically does his own—20 years in.

  
  

  
  

  
  

You say I never needed you, But you were wrong.

You say I never needed you,
But you were wrong.
I’ve always needed you,
just not the way you want me to.
I never needed you to fight my battles for me,
I can do that on my own.
But I do need to know that you will always be on my side,
that I have your trust and support.

I never needed jewels and gold,
I live a simple life and only want for simple things.
But I do need assurance and comfort,
not of finance but of heart, that I am good enough.

I never needed to be constantly around you and wanting your every attention,
I am a big girl and can get by on my own very well,
But I do need to know that I have a place by you side, even when I am not there.

I never needed you to love me like I love you,
I am wise enough to understand not all love are requited,
But I need you to not hurt me,
though we both know that if that happens all I can do is to only continue loving you.

I never needed your heart,
for a heart should never be so easily given away,
But I need your hand,
A warm touch, a gentle embrace, to let me understand that I am safe in your arms.

I never needed your kisses,
They are superficial, and though they feel good they never convey as much as I wanted to.
But I needed your words,
Words in which I hear and can recall in dark times, giving me reason to stand up once again.

I never needed a marriage,
for marriage can be broken and I know how you always hated to be tied down,
But I needed a bond between us,
Something that is proof that this is real and not just a fabric of my imagination.

I never needed a castle,
It is big and cold and I get lost easily,
But I need a home,
A place filled with love that can always go back to.

I never needed to be protected,
I am not made of glass and I can look after myself,
But I need to be embraced,
To know there’s a place I can go to when I am vulnerable.

So yes, I do not need you the way you wanted me to,
But for the ways I needed you, more often than not, you weren’t there,
Which is why I am saying goodbye now,
Before this last piece of fragile heart shatters too…

Farewell my love, I hope that you can find that someone you need,
and I hope that in passing time, my heart will slowly piece itself back together,
When that time comes, maybe then we can risk seeing each other again,
with hope that the feeling of wanting to cry, to hurt, to embrace and to love you will be gone,
and then, truly then, will we be free of each other…

Until then,
Goodbye.”

Like Water for Chocolates

Sweet vanilla mixed with sandalwood scents 
Kinks and coils kissing on your collarbone 
Soft moans 
I place kisses between heated up thighs 
And go deeper before you decide to change your mind 
I can change your heart and 
Rearrange the beads of sweat trickling beneath your right breast 
My fingertips trace circles around your Hershey kiss nipples
Im wrapped up in your pheromones 
High pitched tones 
Calling for every god 
You’re scratching up the walls
I grab your hands and pause long enough to place lip stick prints on your wrists 
Then I crash into you 
And get hot 
And boil over
And spill 
Splash 
Drip
Like water for chocolate 
Stir, blow, sip

Dear Drunk Girl

Because, dear drunk girl, I love you even when you don’t.

Dear Drunk Girl,

I see you everywhere.

I live in this college town, in the only owner-occupied house on a street of student rentals. I see you during Welcome Week, Saturday mornings when there’s a home football game, on St. Patrick’s Day and every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night.

You are at parties next door and across the street, stumbling up our hill in high heels at 3:27 a.m., and sitting on the curb crying and yelling into your cell. Often, I see you getting dropped off in the morning in last night’s party dress, heels in your hand and your hair a crazy mutation of the previous night’s carefully arranged “do.”

I have watched you play Strip Beer Pong on the porch, wearing nothing but a bra and jean shorts. I have heard you talking as you passed my house late at night, your words barely understandable (although very, very loud) and mostly about being “so fucking drunk.”

Don’t roll your eyes at me because I’m old enough to be your mother.

I drink, and I’m not a prude. I am familiar with the relaxing power of a Guinness or a gin and tonic, and I admit that I feel a little prettier, a little more entertaining at a party after a drink or two. I’ve also been really drunk, although not recently. I’ve felt my bed spinning, thrown up in a bar bathroom and woken up believing and wishing that I would die because everything hurt and the world was simultaneously too bright and impossibly fuzzy and muffled.

You are not judged. I’m worried about you.

I have a 16-year-old son, and while I worry about what could happen to him, from driving drunk to alcohol poisoning, he will never be vulnerable in the way that you are. It’s wrong, maybe, that we live in a society with that kind of inequality, but we do.

In a college town like this, there are people who show up on big drinking days looking for young women who are so drunk that they’re easy targets for assault. I didn’t make that up; a police officer described to me the number of calls he’s been on where a woman was left behind by her friends, and someone hurt her.

The officer, the father of two daughters, had tears in his eyes. He said it happens here every weekend.

The officer also made a remark about the way the victims tended to be dressed, which immediately made me furious. I called him on it, asking if he really believed that any woman was inviting assault by wearing revealing clothing. He said that he wasn’t being “political” with me (whatever that means) but that realistically, a man who is going to take advantage of a woman’s incapacity was not going to sit around thinking about whether her party outfit was an invitation to him, or to someone else.

I hate that this is true, I think you should be able to dress any way you like. Because you are young, and beautiful, and you should not have to cover up because some men are predatory or Neanderthal. You should be free, as free as any man on earth.

But.

Here’s the part of all of this that I really, really want you to remember: if you drink so much that your judgement is impaired, that you lose control of yourself, that you black out, you put yourself at risk. That is your choice, and nobody else’s. You live in this world, for better or worse, and with freedom comes responsibility.

Please don’t drink so much that when you break a heel, or stop to puke in the alley, your friends keep moving and leave you alone. When you are shitfaced drunk and isolated at 3:00 a.m. in an alley, you are not safe.

Please don’t drink so much that you hook up with guys you don’t really know, and might not even like very much when you’re sober. If you’re that drunk, it won’t be a great sexual experience anyway. Plus there’s all that disease and pregnancy stuff that could totally mess up your plans and stop your big, beautiful life in its tracks.

Please don’t drink so much that you call that guy you went out with twice, and ask him why he isn’t at the party, and if he’s with another girl, and then yell “you fucking asshole, I know you’re with her!” into your phone. And don’t take your top off in public. And don’t pass out in strange houses.

Because I also see you sober.

I see you everywhere. I see you walking to class in the morning, carrying your design portfolio or your chemistry notes. I see you marching in the band at the Homecoming parade, and coming home from soccer practice with your messy braid and your duffel full of cleats and shin guards. I talk to you about your plans to be teachers, to plan LEED certified buildings, and to move to D.C. and get your start in politics. I see you organizing “Take Back the Night” vigils, and carpooling to the Capitol to protest against injustice.

I know that you can be anything and everything, and I want to keep you safe so you can get where you’re going.

I’m somebody’s mom, and I’m part of the “village” that’s still raising you, even after you move away from home and off campus.

Because, dear drunk girl, I love you even when you don’t.

Affectionately,

That Lady on the Porch Across the Street

(Elephant Journal)www.elephantjournal.com