I Travel Full-Time, and I Fear I'll Never Find a Long-Term Relationship

"I have to go," I said to Diego* as he caressed my face.

I had only met him yesterday, but felt an instant spark. Now, here we were, in Parque Lincoln in Mexico City, neither of us ready to say goodbye quite yet.

"Meet me in Seattle," I said boldly, inviting a near stranger to join me on my next work escapade.

But I knew there would be no Seattle and I knew there would be no more Diego. This scenario was nothing new to me.

I'm a full-time travel writer and content creator. I fly to far-flung destinations to create content under my brand No Man Nomad, and write stories for both my blog and publications I contribute to as a freelancer. To say my life is like a movie would be an easy argument to win, especially when it involves dreamy men like Diego kissing me in a park in Mexico, as I dramatically cut our romance short to catch a flight.

I've worked extremely hard to achieve the life I have. I took my first solo trip in 2016, and it gave me a sense of independence and security that I knew I wanted to build a life around. Despite the competitive nature of travel media, with a lot of hustling and perseverance, I've managed to break in.

Yet despite living my dream of solo traveling around the globe (80 countries, but who's counting) and getting paid to do so, the reality is that, aside from spending 12 hours a day behind a laptop and starting each morning in silence with my double espresso while I play Wordle, the consistency ends there. This includes everything from where I do laundry to how I date.

For the most part, I don't actively seek dating when I travel, but if a connection naturally occurs, I let it flow and see where it takes me. However, because I constantly have one foot out the door, these flings are never able to run their course, and are always cut short well before their time.

I've also been single since 2019 by choice. I survived a horrific sexual assault that altered my ability to trust others, and in the aftermath, I was fine to swear off dating for the rest of my life. However, as time passed and I managed to heal, I realized that just because something bad happened to me doesn't mean I need to stop dating forever. I learned this when I met Gianluca* in Naples, Italy, in October 2022. He was a bartender with soft eyes who I met at a wine bar on the street of my Airbnb. We ended up spending as much time as possible together while I was in town, whether it was eating cornetto on the street at midnight after his shift or chatting over an anchovy pizza at his favorite pizzeria. It was a fun, whirlwind romance and reminded me I was capable of being loved, and perhaps even more notably, of loving.

Gianluca was the catalyst that allowed me to approach dating after my assault with an open mind, and recently, I've found myself desiring companionship. Yet, now, with how far I've come in healing and learning to trust again, there's a new fear: that I will never be in a position to fully commit to a relationship. For the remainder of this year, my travel schedule includes stops from Norway to Antarctica. I have thought about how a relationship would work simply from a logistical standpoint. Though there are FaceTime calls and occasional opportunities to bring a plus one on some of my trips, I can't think of many ways a relationship would be in the cards.

I also have to face the reality that a lot of men may not seek someone with my level of independence. How would building a trusting partnership work if I'm constantly on the road, not always able to answer texts or calls immediately because I'm at a work commitment or simply in a different timezone? Would jealousy play a role? Though these questions and concerns often come up, sacrificing the life that I have built is not a viable option under any circumstance.

And as a solo female traveler and — or better yet, a woman who exists in a world of men — I often play it safe rather than sorry. Although I recently downloaded Tinder for the first time in years in Rome, I ultimately didn't have it in me to spend my final night in the city with a strange man for various reasons, with one of them being safety concerns. I took myself out for some 9:30 p.m. carbonara instead, and relished being able to make that choice. While I am open to putting myself out there, a solo date night involving a big bowl of Roman carbonara is much less of a risk than meeting a stranger that I might not vibe or feel comfortable with.

At the end of the day, I'm a believer that you really can have it all. Despite my lifestyle, my past traumas, and all of my quirks and flaws, I know I am not only capable of being loved, but worthy of it, too. And if the love of my life is out there somewhere, it will work whether I'm in Svalbard or Palau, just the way it's supposed to.

*Names have been changed

Kaitlyn Rosati is a food and travel journalist. Previously, she interned for UN Women and briefly attended law school, both of which were largely fueled by her advocacy for victims of gender-based violence. While these days Kaitlyn's work focuses more on finding the best hidden dining gems at various destinations around the globe, she still speaks at universities and college campuses to raise awareness about sexual violence, particularly cyber sexual abuse.