I will not live a hungry existence.

When I was working in Japan, my friends and I decided to take a day and travel a little loop around Mount Fuji.

And I will not get into the magic that made that day so vibrant, but I will tell you that around midday I found myself very very hungry.

It was right before we were catching the ferry boat that was going to afford us a glimpse of that great mountain. Which, by the way, this ferry boat didn’t look like any ferry I had ever seen before. Certainly in America they seem to be largely utilitarian. Space seems to be the point–space to cram in people and bicycles and yes, even cars.

But the point to this ferry boat was maybe pirates. It looked to be straight out of the Goonies, like One-Eyed Willie himself would have been happy to be at the helm. It was all wooden and intricately carved and surely if I was ever going to meet a man with a peg leg and a parrot on his shoulder, it would have been then.

But right, I was not going to get into the magic of that day.

I wanted to tell you about how I was so desperately hungry that I walked into the tiny cafe that was there, basically ready to eat whatever I could find. And what I found was a hot dog, which is actually different for me. I really don’t order hot dogs at restaurants. Like, ever. But there was a picture of one and I figured it was, at the very least, recognizable, and so I went for it.

Which I immediately regretted upon unwrapping it. Because it was shriveled and oddly colored and unsettling to my stomach and probably even my spirit, but I went ahead and ate the. whole. thing. I was so desperate to eat, that my usual ideals–health, smell, aesthetics—were thrown out the window.

Because something is better than nothing, right? Full is better than empty, true?

No.

Not all the time.

Especially not when it comes to relationships.

Yes, I realize we were talking about hot dogs, but now I’m comparing them to relationships, so come along with me, it’ll be a good time.

Because I think it is easy to become so hungry in your heart that you will take just about anything. And that is a dangerous place. It wasn’t too long ago that I found out some nightmarish truths about the relationship I was in, and I was listening to the hungry part of me more than anything else. So much so that I actually wished that I had just never found out about those things; that I could just go home and live life in my own version of it, even if the truth was entirely different. I just wanted to still believe I was loved, I guess.

Which was a terrible, deadly idea. And not at all how I was raised. I grew up on love and I know who I am; I have a brain that spins out some interesting thoughts, a heart that is shaped in such a way to be lovable. And I firmly believe that humans are fascinatingly special and deserve to be treated as such, present company included.

But suddenly I was so hungry for love that I was willing to eat an old shriveled hot dog. And if you are thinking that was a very bad choice of words, then yes, I agree. But do you see my point? Because if you take the whole “something is better than nothing” policy, than you might just end up with poison. And poison is certainly not better than nothing.

And what might look like nothing could actually be a big beautiful something that is meant to be dug into. It is dangerous to not realize that my heart is full, that there is no need to live like a beggar who is expecting crumbs and that’s all. Because expectation is a powerful force in our lives, and I’d rather not lower mine right now. Not when it comes to letting someone in, not when it comes to sharing an adventure with someone who will effect every part of that adventure.

So I will not live a hungry existence.

Nor will I be ordering any more hot dogs.

The one exception is at a campfire.

Because, yum.

And also, ketchup.

Which vastly improves most things.

Except for a bad relationship; that is beyond even ketchup. Which is saying something.