Baggage vs Luggage

I hate the term baggage.

The idea that something that happened in the past permanently affects our future bothers me to no end.

Mostly because I don’t like the idea of someone I once loved having that much power over me.

I took away some great things from my previous relationships.  But I also took away some crap.

The ex who dumped me to marry a coworker, that was pretty shitty.

And the ex who dropped me because he said he could never make me happy, breaking my heart, that sucked too.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit I have some residual baggage from those experiences.

  • Relationships make me skittish
  • It takes me a while to open up
  • I have trust issues (don’t we all)

So there you have it.  I have baggage.

What I don’t have is luggage.  Some people have luggage and you know exactly what I’m talking about.  They have a matching set of luggage you can spot a mile away.  And they haul it with great gusto from relationshit to relationshit, daring their new partner to fix what’s wrong.

I’ve met people with luggage.  And they’re remarkably successful at finding people to date, because I suppose there’s a lot of people out there who love a rescue.

I’m always reminded of my baggage every time I meet someone new and I have to share all the funny bits and pieces about myself that I don’t necessarily like but I live with.

I take a DEEP BREATH and fight the urge to run for the door.

Of course, the panic passes and I feel fine.  But for a moment there I thought I was going to dash.


Fucking baggage.