True Love Waits

(Note: The title of this post is a Radiohead song. I have not completely lost my mind.)

Someone I know was on the prowl, met a guy and made the mistake of hitting it off before asking him The Question.

The Question is not "Are you straight?" (if you, yourself, are straight) or even "Are you in a relationship?" (which, apparently, is not a dealbreaker here).

"How long are you in Liberia?"

"Four months."

End of conversation.

I had a friend who was never quite sure who she was, having spent every second year of her youth somewhere new. This always sounded so cool but now I see the downside: people without roots seem strange, fly-by-night. They're poor social investments. The expats who are here long enough see friends and lovers leave in cycles and it can be excrutiating. Eventually, you assess whether people are worth knowing by their answers to The Question.

The thing is, though, that contracts get unexpectedly renewed and life back home can lose its shine from afar. Four months has been known to stretch three years. Plans change. I, for example, was supposed to be starting an MBA stateside this August. I assure you that that is no longer the case.

I blame this entirely on my answer to The Question.  I should have said "Not long" and been a social pariah, alone with my books and homeward bound.