Love on a conveyor belt

On a recent trip abroad, while waiting for my luggage to arrive on the conveyor belt, I was struck by a tangible sense of déjà vu. The experience was particularly powerful when my luggage took a long time to arrive, and the thought crossed my mind that it might not arrive at all. The déjà vu I referred to had nothing to do with luggage at all, but rather the feeling most singles I know have - that they may have missed the boat where finding a life partner is concerned.

As the luggage goes around and around on the belt, one is often tempted to pick up a case that looks exactly like the real thing. How often do we even pick up the wrong bag, only to realize our mistake and return it to the carousel and its rightful owner? And on the rare occasion, someone else's case could be taken home accidentally, resulting in all sorts of inconvenience to get it back to whom it belongs. The same thing happens with dating. More than once I hoped I had found 'the one', only to realize sooner (or later) that I had been mistaken by good looks or hypnotic charm. In those cases, delving a little deeper made me realize that the contents of the case didn't fit me at all, and I had to put the relationship aside and keep looking for the right thing.

With the baggage carousel, the experience almost always ends well – even when one's luggage does not appear immediately, it either arrives late (sometimes a little worse for wear), or it gets sent to you later on. The search for the perfect partner does not come with the same kind of guarantee – and the vague sense that your partner may never arrive on the 'conveyor belt' underlies almost every dating experience there is.

The analogy of baggage and dating does not end at the carousel. Baggage is something we each take with us, to some extent or another, into the dating relationship. I certainly cannot claim to be baggage-free, and doubt whether anyone has ever left a relationship without a few 'take-aways' from the experience. I often find myself analyzing my reaction to situations in light of the personal baggage I bring with me from previous connections, and I've spent many first dates trying to work out the extent of my dates' baggage as well. There are some giveaway signs in this regard. The guy who spends the first date going on endlessly about his ex-girlfriend is a clear example of someone who needs to put his bags back on the conveyor belt. Other clues can be found in the man who's over 35 and still lives with his parents, the guy who declares eternal love after a week (you can be assured that he'll change his mind after two), and the divorcee who wants you to meet his children the same day he meets you, cause he's "just sure you'll hit it off". Stay away from all of those – they are usually not just carrying luggage that is overweight - they are also often emotional time bombs just waiting to explode.

Another similarity between the luggage carousel and dating is the never-ending cycle of bags that keep arriving. We are expected to identify our own bags out of a range of hundreds or thousands of other bags that appear constantly. Dating today feels the same way – with countless ways to meet people and a never-ending supply of singles available at the click of a mouse, one is often overwhelmed by the variety and the temptation to stay at home and have intimate relations with a tub of ice-cream can be quite overwhelming at times. But that feeling of spotting your bag on the conveyor belt, of recognizing that it's yours with absolute certainty, the relief that it has arrived and you can go home and get on with the rest of your life, is well worth the wait. And THAT'S the feeling to hold on to when preparing for the next date, or making that call when you're given a number, or writing that email on the dating site of the day. The feeling is priceless – at the end of the day, you could end up finding your perfect match out there, but you have to stay at the carousel until it happens.