I came across an interesting article about solo travelers who are in a couple’s relationship.  It played off those for whom such travel represents mind-expanding liberation against others who see it as a relationship red flag.

In my current world, solo travel is essential.  If I want to visit a place, I must either go alone or be prepared to stay home.  Let me say, however, that solo travel would not be my first preference.

My dream was to travel with Lee and immerse ourselves in a foreign culture.  Not on a permanent basis, mind you, but for a period of months at least. I had investigated and planned for nearly a decade, spending countless hours, in anticipation of a time that would coincide with our respective retirements. The main finalists included Costa Rica and Portugal, with Ecuador and, to a lesser extent (because Lee hadn’t liked the place as much as I), Panama also under serious consideration.

Lee retired.  So far, so good. But then she got sick and died.

In my isolation and loneliness, owing to the remarkable concurrence of Lee’s recent death and a worldwide pandemic, I got Lola the Wonder Dog.  The rest, as they say, is history.  Unwilling to subject Lola to the dangers and deprivations of rigorous foreign travel, I settled for Arizona, where we now travel together annually.

So long as I remain physically able, if my choice is between traveling or staying at home, I will choose to travel every time.  This is consistent with a promise I made to myself before I met Robyn. As I say, solo travel is not my first preference, but it sure beats the alternative.

Indeed, my ideal would be to form a traveling threesome with Robyn and Lola. To try to get Robyn’s buy-in, I’ve even promised that she can ride in the front seat with me, but, alas, Robyn claims without good cause to despise Tucson.  I won’t push travel issues with her as she still works full-time, but I reserve the right to do so once she cashes in her chips.