15 March 2015. Venice, Italy
I looked out on the buildings of Venice. I was at the top of Campanile Di San Marco, a tower in the southern part of the town.
In front of me lay the criss-crossed blueprint of the buildings of Venice, with their winding streets and very un-American-sized alleyways.  To my left was the Plaza square, full of groups of people laughing and joking around, eating gelato. Behind me was the open water where water taxis and gondolas loaded and unloaded their passengers for more Venetian site-seeing. Off to my right was a jumble of canals and buildings of Venice.
The top of the tower, just like in the streets and the gondolas, were couples. Romantic, happy couples. Many of them had selfie sticks that they presumably bought from one of the thousands of selfie stick sellers that were down in the plaza square. They were holding hands, hugging, side-hugging, doing eskimo kisses, or full on regular kisses; pretty much the standard PDA you see littered on your Facebook walls from when couples travel.
While I watched one couple take about a hundred selfie shots from slightly different angles, I had two thoughts.
The first was “Maybe I should get a selfie stick.”
The second was, “Maybe I should get a girlfriend.”
Both would have been nice in that moment, someone to share the view with and something to take a picture of us sharing that view.
One of the things I had started to realized in my short trip to Venice was that there are locations in the world that are probably better visited with a significant other.
I’ve never really been one to long for a relationship. I’ve certainly enjoyed the ones that I’ve had, but I’m also an introvert, so traveling and being alone typically isn’t a problem. I get to meet interesting people when I feel social enough to talk and get plenty of alone time when I don’t.
But in Venice, things felt different.
Maybe it was because I wasn’t there for work. I had a break in between a couple of events in Switzerland and had decided to visit Italy because I’d never been. Venice was a short train ride away from Milan, so I thought what the heck.
There, I had that feeling of missing someone, or perhaps, something.
I’d had it before, that “missing” feeling, including right when I was starting this nomadic journey and leaving certain people behind.
And I had missed people I had dated before, that due to location, goals, or just people changing, never worked out. I had also missed just being in a relationship, missing the idea of having someone there, that you know, that knows you very well, and that you can take a selfie with while using a selfie stick knowing they’re not going to judge you.
Venice was definitely one of those places where it was better to be as a couple. Every where I went, there were relationships growing: couples walking hand in hand down the small streets, taking in the sights, standing at the apex of Ponte di Rialto. The luddites with selfie sticks asking strangers to take pictures of them snuggling or kissing in the romantic atmosphere.
It really sank in.
But rather than dwell on it, I went down the tower, past loving couples, into a shop that specialized in American food, and got a milkshake. All seemed okay.
