People will tell you all the various things which sucketh about long distance relationships: time difference, lack of contact, lack of sex… and these are all sucky things, to be sure! But these are numbers two through the rest for me – number one is the NOT KNOWING. Because here’s the bad math of the situation for me: it’s long distance + lack of self confidence + my guy is a total catch = wondering every minute of every day if he’s currently falling in love with someone who doesn’t require a DAY of travel to get a kiss. Or, you know… more than a kiss.
Please do not misunderstand my worry here: this is not a question of trusting T.E. I trust him. His dedication to honesty with me is just one of the various pieces that makes me trust him completely. And I completely believe that he loves me. But I just don’t understand WHY he loves me. I don’t get what the actual appeal is. He tells me that he feels the same, but my friends this is Kah-Rap. Well-meaning, sweetly intended and wonderfully British Kah-Rap. Both because I tell him ALL THE TIME of things that I specifically love about him, down to stupid little details like how loud he chews (the first time we met he chewed through a pile of Chicken McNuggets sounding like he was dynamiting a coal mine. Once I managed to close my mouth I totally swooned.) and his freakish flexibility and the way he loves to hold me personally responsible for the ways that my nation has butchered the language that his people generously allowed us to take with us when we ran away from home, and also because I can see how handsome and sexy and brilliant and funny and a million gallon bucket of other good things he is. And where as I’m old and done and pretty isolated he’s awesome and gorgeous and surrounded, UTTERLY SURROUNDED, by herds of free-range hotties with navel rings and sexy british accents and perky boobs and a much. Closer. Proximity.
In short: I’m not worried that T.E. will cheat on me. I’m afraid he’ll fall in love with someone else.
What the hell does one do with this worry? I can’t make him promise not to find someone better – I’m sure he would but he can’t make that promise anyway. Also you can’t plan who you fall in love with; if anybody knows that it’s he and I. Also HOW STUPID DOES SOMEONE SOUND MAKING THAT REQUEST??? And to be really honest, if he met someone better it would be, by far, the very best thing for him. He so should not have to be dealing with the mess of all-day flights, of listening to me worry about finding work, of forcing himself to stay up so late just so we can talk. The part of me that wants the best for my sweet boy almost wishes he would meet someone because of how much better his life would be.
Then I think about losing him and I throw up in my mouth.
Right now I’m really struggling with this worry. I’m trying to do it without becoming this clingy, paranoid mess, though I’ve really perfected the art of FaceBook stalking every girl that he befriends and makes the mistake of mentioning to me. (it’s that honesty thing again. So much more dangerous than it looks on the outside of the box…) I’m trying to be this low-key, cool girlfriend who, when she hears that he’s got to crash early so that he can get up early to go meet a funny, hot, bright girl for coffee, responds with the blasé “oh, sure, cool, awesome baby. Hey, have a great time, seriously, have a blast. Totally. Awesome…” even if my head is echoing with unending choruses of “The Party’s Over…”
Gosh, maybe this is the good part about the long distance relationship. I seriously wonder, if we DID live in the same city would I be the crazy girlfriend in black trench coat and sunglasses parked in my car with binoculars and a bag of Doritos watching their coffee date from across the street? I own a trench coat. I enjoy Doritos. And I can totally parallel park my car.