I Travel Solo. I Should Date the Same Way.
When I travel alone, I am the main character. I’ve been the main character for 9 years as a solo traveler and nearly 32 years as a human.
My trips revolve around what I want. I choose the destination. I book the flight. I decide where I stay. I wake up when I feel like it.
I trust myself to navigate foreign countries, unfamiliar streets, and places where I may not know the native language. Using instinct in these scenarios doesn’t necessarily challenge me, and if ever it has felt like a challenge, it’s one I’m happy to approach.
I have incredible focus and clarity when I’m traveling. I’m able to quickly decide what I do and don’t like, and I don’t shame myself for wanting better.
In relationships though? I have often negotiated with discomfort. I sometimes question my intuition, explain away red flags, or maybe most frustratingly, accept bare-minimum effort.
Recently, I’ve thought often about all that I’m willing to do for and give to myself myself that I don't always have the courage to require of men. I’m exceptionally in tuned with myself as a solo traveler, so why doesn’t this naturally translate into what feels good in relationships?
If I can research thoroughly, vet carefully, and ask detailed questions when I travel, then surely I can walk away from a person that doesn’t feel aligned with me in dating. I don’t have to overthink, rationalize or justify. I’m allowed to decide that just because something is available doesn’t mean it’s for me.
Travel has shown me that I actually do know what feels good.
I know what it feels like to wake up in a space that energizes me.
I know what it feels like to be excited about the day ahead.
I know what it feels like to live in a world where I don’t have to shrink.
Why would I accept a relationship that feels smaller than that?
When I travel, I give myself effort. I love adventure and playful experiences as much as I love history and educational experiences. I invest in quality, easily make connections, and have life-changing conversations with strangers. I don’t beg anyone to join me, and I don’t chase anything that isn’t mine to have.
I just go.
To me, there has always been something powerful about being a woman who just goes. A woman that can dine and wander streets alone. A woman that holds her own and trusts herself in unfamiliar spaces. I recognize that discomfort is information to process, not something to run from and avoid.
That’s the woman I am when I travel.
And that’s the woman I need to be in love.
The woman who doesn’t ignore her intuition.
The woman who doesn’t stay in a dynamic that feels off.
The woman who knows that peace is a baseline and not something I have to earn.
Travel has taught me that clarity and confidence is kindness to myself. It has also taught me that I don’t have to prove i’m worthy of good experiences. I just have to choose them.
So maybe dating the same way I travel means this:
I remain the main character.
I stay attuned to what feels expansive and embrace the bigness of my life and who I am at my core. I don’t apologize having standards. I trust my instincts the way I do when I’m walking down a street I’ve never seen before.
If I can have this confidence on safari in Kenya, navigating the market in Guatemala, or wandering the medina in Morocco, then I can have this same confidence in dating.
And if I know how to be intentional, experience joy, and set a standard for any destination I travel to, then I can require that same level of intention, joy, and thoughtfulness from the person I choose to share my life with.
I travel solo. I should date the same way.
When I travel alone, I don’t negotiate with discomfort. I trust my instincts in foreign cities, pivot when something feels off, and choose experiences that align with my standards. In dating, though, I’ve sometimes silenced this intuition. Solo travel taught me how deeply I know what feels good and how powerful that is when I stop apologizing for wanting it.