Dating and Vacationing

Hey all!
The subject of today's post: Dating.
Yeah, yeah. I know you are sick of it.
But I have not been allowed to forget about it, so neither will you.
See, since I returned from my mission, there seems to be an invisible-to-me, shiny sticker that says "RM" on my forehead. Guys that don't really even know me are asking me out in droves.
I am not complaining, because on an individual basis, they have been very nice guys and have treated me very well, but it has been a little overwhelming as a freshly (I guess now, not-so-freshly -- three months!) returned missionary. Sometimes I get burned out.
Yesterday, I decided the reason for it is that dating is like going on vacation.
Vacations are nice and exciting, and you get to try new foods and do new things. They are something out of the ordinary, an adventure, something to look forward to.
But what happens when you are going on vacation once a week or maybe twice or three times? Then suddenly, because you are seeing so many places, it is hard to see the good qualities of any of them. It becomes less adventurous and exciting. It becomes ordinary.
I normally don't like analogies, but let's take it to the next step.
See, what is actually going on, is our imaginary vacationer is looking for a place to live. And when she goes vacationing places to see if it is the place she wants to live, then they "wine and dine" her so to say. The town shows her the nice restaurants and art and museums and leaves the factories for another day. Sounds like dating, right?
So if she is going to so many vacation sites so often, she will never know anything but the dancing, and the music, and the fireworks. She will never find out what it would be really like to live there. And pretty soon, all of the restaurants and shopping and beautiful vistas all start looking the same. And she is tired and just wants to eat breakfast in the same place for two days in a row. But now she is stuck and could never pick, because she can't decide between so many options (but not really options, because she didn't really see any of them through her tired eyes), and she doesn't want to decide on a place to live just because she is tired of looking. But really, they are the ones scouting her out, so the options continue to increase. She isn't even house hunting. Houses are hunting her! Okay. Now this is getting confusing and creepy.
So our imaginary vacationer is stuck. Too many options. No options that have actually been explored. And tired eyes and feet and back.
I guess maybe she is just hoping that someday she will accidentally find herself in a place that is home. A place that is sweet and simple and the food is good, but also filling. A place that has a nice folding chair under a tree where she can put up her feet and take a nap and never want to leave. The local business isn't flashy, but it supports families that are really nice and open, and hang their laundry outside. They aren't begging for her attention, but when she is ready to ask them about their lives in this place, they tell her stories that are funny and serious and real. They politely offer her a place and show her how she could fit into this community and tell her that they would love to have her because she smiles easy, tries her hardest, and can get dirt under her fingernails sometimes.
And suddenly she finds it--the perfect house. Not too big, not too small.
With happiness painted all over the walls and growing in the flower boxes.