Day 50: If They Weren't Homophobes I'd be a Boyscout

Tomorrow I am hitting the road for a little Ame time in FL. This will be a weird vacation for the fact that one, I’m not currently working and I don’t know if you can actually take a vacation from sitting on your ass and two, I will be going it alone. I lucked into a place to stay when a friend mentioned that the family vacation houses were vacant. Considering my family could barely afford our actual house, the idea of owning vacation property still mystifies me a bit. Anyway, I love the ocean and feel like a few days on a beach could be just the ticket to refresh whatever is spoiled. In prepping for my solo journey I happened to notice that I’m packing like I am never to return. What makes women over-pack to the point that we have more clothes in suitcases than in our closets and could it be some latent "always be prepared" Boyscout bullshit that I picked up?

I fully intend to return home, I kind of have to since the husband is footing our bills right now and I think if I just disappeared so would my meal ticket. I don’t even plan on using most of what I’m bringing. It’s not like I’m going to be hitting the Florida redneck party circuit. Yet, I still have two wardrobes: daytime/beach and nighttime/social. I also packed eight pairs of shoes as well as accessories for every possible contingency. I find myself wondering as I stare at the bags strewn across my bedroom floor and stuffed with pretty much everything I own, "just what the hell kind of 'Ame time' do I think I’m going to have"?

Why is it that we feel the need to bring everything and plan for every possible contingency as if a simple getaway is littered with surprises and detours? In general, I pack two outfits a day. I bring an outfit for casual daywear and one for evening, you know, in case some fabulous invitation to the senior center of Jacksonville, FL should come my way. As a woman who has traveled extensively, the thing I hate above all others is the sudden realization that an outfit would be perfect if only I had remembered the other . . .(insert item of clothing here). So to combat this most heinous of vacation tragedies, I bring every damn thing I own.

Jeff learned to be patient with me on this front years ago, but I think this is more because he happens to be the worst packer I’ve ever met. Jeff will pack an entire bag for a winter visit home to Wisconsin and discover when he gets there that he didn’t bring any pants. Sometimes I think that the reason we get along so well has less to do with actual commonalities and more to do with a mutual admiration for qualities we do not possess ourselves. Jeff has the memory, I have the planning skills, Jeff has the money, I have the ability to spend it, you get the point. I guess when they say relationships are about compromising, what they really mean is to find someone that has all the qualities you don’t so together you balance one another out.

So for this trip, when it’s just me, I feel oddly off balance. It’s not my first time on my own. I moved to Manhattan alone and didn’t think twice. I live alone now and manage okay. Somehow though, as relaxing and poetic as a solitary beach vacation sounded at the time, I find that I miss Jeff’s half empty suitcase and admonitions about waiting until the last minute to do everything. I used to be such a loner and now I wonder if I have simply outgrown that phase of my life. Is my constant need to over-pack some symptom of my larger inability to be without or to be alone? Am I substituting clothing and shoes for human contact? In some ways it’s even more important. If I am going to be out in a strange town on my own, I certainly don’t want to look like a hobo. I mean, can you imagine if I only had the gold strappy heels and not the black zebra print wedges? How would I manage?

I see in myself the urge for more of everything the lonelier or more fenced in I am. When money is tight I spend more; when jobs are scarce I try less to find one; when I’m lonely I turn to strangers. I have friends in Charlotte and many old friends I’ve reconnected with back home, I could easily stay here or go home to visit, but instead I’ve decided on a few days of alone time. Which is ironic really, because when you live alone and don’t have a job, pretty much every hour of every day is alone time. Still, I think it’s the call of the ocean. I always feel different on the water, I draw energy and peace from it. I am fairly certain that the only thing I will wear the whole time I stay there is a bathing suit and a cover-up.

Maybe I need a vacation from people, or time away from my own life, whatever it is I am looking forward to it despite going without Jeff and I am most definitely prepared for anything. I’m even bringing two toothbrushes, well actually, I suspect I have three because tonight I noticed my back-up was also missing. It’s very possible when I get to FL I will discover I inadvertently packed a toothbrush for every day and a pair of shoes for every four hours. For someone who likes to be prepared I am always amazed at how life seems to constantly catch me unawares and knock me on my ass. I love to plan and to make lists, but some things in life you just have to wing.

One day when Jeff comes home I will convince him to buy a Harley with me. When that happens I might actually learn to worry less about what might happen and focus instead on what is happening. Should we travel a long distance on a bike, I’ll only bring what I can fit and let life and the road take care of the rest. Until then, however, I’m bringing all my damn shoes, because you never know what you might need and I believe in taking advantage of opportunities. Hopefully soon I will have a job and beach houses and road trips will no longer be options. So right now, I’m hitting the road with my top down and four sunscreens of various strengths and types in tow. I may have no idea what I’ll do when I get there, but I’m going to be prepared for anything.