I really am a complete hopeless romantic in a hook-up generation. I seriously think Prince Charming is going to just come swoop me up on a white unicorn with a bottle of wine and a one-way ticket to accompany mine.
I realize my relationship goals are unrealistic, and I’m likely doomed to becoming a cat lady unless I start practicing polygamy or whatever the hell sexual preference Miley Cyrus claims to be.
But I’ve been feeling a lot less hopeless lately because of travel. Here’s why: