A dear friend of mine just shared an article “Date a Boy who Travels” on her Facebook Wall: “Love this.”Date a Boy who Travels? That’s nice if your life is about pleasure. But there’s a more exquisite joy.
I didn’t love it.
But I do get it.
We all like the idea of dating Indiana Jones, or one of those sixpacked boys from the cover of Outside, or one of those hunch-backed hottie climbers from the gym who’re always coming back from France and heading out again for Hueco Tanks, or Yosemite.
And, to be fair, I liked a lot of it: the un-materialistic parts of it. The parts that extolled the virtues of letting go and independence within relationships (for more) and being world-aware, while appreciating home.
But the whole bucket list thing has always seemed a bit off, slightly twisted at its roots. It’s a bit YOLO—it’s materializing adventure and even life’s most precious memories.
But I get it.
And if the world were alright, sure, I’d say: go for it. Date a boy (or girl) who lives life for pleasure. For adventure. There’s nothing selfish about such a life—beyond the endless carbon footprint, the “bucket list” mentality of living life to the fullest.
But as travel star and colleague Ryan Van Duzer says, “Most adventure dudes are so selfish…they don’t care about much more than getting to tops of mountains and doing gnarly sh*t.”
So I say “f*ck it” to the bucket list. Why?
The world isn’t alright. Sure, it’s wondrous. It’s amazing. But it’s also full of suffering.
This is a time for heroes. Ordinary, everyday heroes.
This is a time for the luckiest among us not to travel (as a way of life), but rather to serve (as a way of life).
“Date a boy who travels because he’s not blinded by a single goal but enlivened by many,” urges the author, in Date a Boy who Travels.
I beg to differ, my friend. Being “blinded by a single goal” is perhaps a fair definition of entrepreneurship, of achievement—or even of motherhood. Any great ambition requires focus, dedication, sacrifice, perseverance—single-mindedness.
And it’s typical of my generation to exhort ourselves to “Date a Boy who Travels”, illustrated with a happy-happy-joy-joy Pinteresty photo of a boy and a rucksack and a dream. It’s #instaromantic.
But you know what’s truly romantic?
Date a Boy who Serves. Date a boy who wants to do some good, to put others before himself, to help others who haven’t perhaps been given the same opportunities. That’s f*cking hot.
A few nights ago, I joined my friend Duzer—we served as bartenders (boytenders, we called it) for a non-profit called Intercambio. The founder is a young man who has dedicated his life to providing a bridge for immigrants, to learn English. That’s my kind of Boy.
Date a Boy who’s big enough to think about Others First. Am I right?
I look at Michelle, and Barack, and I admire both. I admire her for her willingness to give so much up because she knows her new role, both in starring and in support, can help many more. I admire Barry’s willingness to jump into the mud—into a path of service that few good women or men are willing to jump into (I myself hesitate to jump into a far smaller pool, locally, despite being blessed and able).
This day and age requires heroes who can help underprivileged children get bicycles. Heroes who create an ecofashion line that employs women with HIV in Cambodia. Heroes who head up a mine-defusing operation in South America. (Why not travel, and serve?) And, yes, heroes who sit, bent over a cup of organic coffee, working on their laptops for years and years and years and years. It might look boring, compared with strolling the streets of, say, Beijing—but as Confucius reminds us, “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”
I take exception to that “Date a Boy who Travels” because we can do better.
And if we can do better, we must do better.
We must remember to admire the teachers and servants among us: those who are quiet and humble and brave and confident enough to do what might be boring. To work hard, knowing that their service might help this world to heal, and flower. Because there’s nothing sexier, after all, than dating a boy (or girl) who thinks of other children, women and men before himself.
Dating a girl or boy who serves requires sacrifice on our part, too. Because we’re not the priority. We have to learn independence, if we don’t already know it. We have to remember our own lust for our own life and service. And that’s the ultimate gift—remembering our own path of joy is far sexier than scrolling through someone’s Instagram adventures.
Date a Boy who Serves: while he may not be prioritizing that bike tour through France or surfing adventure down in Costa Rica, he will be eager to get out of bed in the morning, and reluctant to close his eyes at night. A boy who serves will sometimes say “no, honey, I can’t go with you. I have to work.” He might say that a lot. But what he means is, “honey, it’d be fun. But fun isn’t my priority. Service is my ultimate fun, even if it looks boring.”
So I say let’s stop reading, writing or sharing pretty, inspiration blogs about mere pleasure.
Let’s start writing, sharing and living beautiful, fulfilling lives of service.
Incorrect source, offensive, or found a typo? Or do you want to write for Elephant?
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/05/date-a-boy-who-serves/