A couple weeks ago, I wrote a poem about whether it was possible or not to keep finding love in a situation like teaching for a year in South Korea, only to need to either shit or get off the pot during that time.
Mixing metaphors like that isn’t always effective, but hopefully you get my point.
A good friend of mine of (wow) nearly 20 years has been teaching overseas for what feels like almost a decade. He started in Burma, then Taiwan, currently the Congo and soon, he’ll be in Cairo. Such far-flung places has meant he, a naturally charming man, has been in a number of relationships. As far as I know, they haven’t followed him to the other countries.