Why We Should Change Wanderlust to Wanderhorny

Anyone who says wanderlust is just trying to sell you something.

Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash

Are you someone who lusts to wander? Who desires to travel?

Or are you someone who starves for travel. Begs for it. Holds travel down on the bed and fucks it.

Anyone who says wanderlust is not someone who travels. Wanderlust is for those who dream of travel, but never actually do it.

They research it. Plan it. Dream of it. Tell everyone about it. But when people ask why they haven’t done it yet, their voices fill with heavy sighs and excuses.

A true traveler isn’t lustful for travel, they’re horny for it.

The thirst for a new destination eats at you, every goddamn day. If that hunger is never satisfied, it continues to consume you. Until all that’s left is an empty hole inside of you.

That’s called regret.

The secret to traveling is just to do it. Maybe that’s the secret to everything. If you romanticize it, it becomes unattainable. If you tell everyone you’re going to do it, you won’t. Stop lusting for travel, and get horny for it.

Every traveler feels it.

You fantasize about it.

You obsessively plan your trips. Where will you go? Where will you go next? What will you see? What won’t you see? Even at your job, you can’t stop thinking about it. Start in Thailand, end in Papua New Guinea. See the Great Wall of China, and pee off of it. Your fantasies get out of control. Wild. You’re wanderhorny and your flight isn’t even until next week.

You’re restless.

You can’t sleep at night. You hate your apartment. You organize your kitchen, it’s not good enough. You download maps. Research landmarks. Run your fingers over Airbnb, over and over, until you find the perfect place. You make lists of things to pack. Then you buy it all on Amazon.

You’re wet for it.

You crave to sleep in a cheap motel, feel the scratchy second-hand sheets on your sweaty body. Slide that backpack all over your shoulders and carry your dirty clothes through airport security.

Once you go pack, you never go back.

Travelers are the black sheep of the family. The outcasts. “I want to be a lawyer. I want to be a doctor.”

“I want to travel.”

What do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be me. Just me in another country.

You don’t want to wander the world, you want to conquer it. You want to fill your hole with experiences and destinations. There’s no room for regret. You want to smile to yourself when someone talks about a place you’ve been. And then sit there silently. Those memories are just for you.

You don’t want to have a crush on travel.

You don’t want to marry it.

You don’t want to make love to it.

You want to fuck it.

Wanderlust is for those who dipped their feet in but the water was too cold. The risk was too great. Wanderhorny is for those who dove in headfirst and discovered they had gills.

You can never go home. And even if you did, you’d breathe differently than everyone else. Forever craving that fresh air from abroad.

You don’t have wanderlust.

You’re wanderhorny.