One of the things I dislike the most about being in a long distance relationship is the waiting. I feel like I'm always waiting for something from him. Right now, I'm waiting for his e-mail. On Thursdays, I work really late (or early depending on how you look at it) so I always e-mail him when I get to work at midnight. I then spend the rest of my four hour shift waiting for him to e-mail me back. I pretty much check my e-mail every five minutes in hopes that he'll have e-mailed me back. I love when he e-mails me. I love reading the sweet things he has to say. I love it when I hear from him. Yet, I'm always waiting. Sometimes it's because I don't actually get the e-mail until 12 hours later (this has actually happened several times) or I miss one of my five minute checks because I become focused on homework or some other task or sometimes I just forget to check (which rarely happens). It just becomes so disheartening sometimes because I live for the moments when I get to hear from him. If there was one thing I could change, it would be the waiting. But then, that's part of being in a long distance relationship, and I wouldn't change my relationship for the world. For now, it is perfect.
*Number of times I checked my e-mail while writing this: five
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Happiness
Ever since I got back from seeing Bear, it seems like I'm only happy when I'm talking to him, or texting him, or reading one of his e-mails. The rest of the time, I feel miserable. Everything was fine until I went to see him. Before, I could actually get things accomplished instead of just waiting for him to respond to me. I got my homework done (most of the time). I ate. I slept. I did the things I was supposed to. Ever since I got back though, I feel like I've been in the dumps except for the few times a week I actually get to talk to him. The things that used to excite me, no longer matter. My friends can't understand because they've never experience anything like this. It's so hard having him so far away. I really do feel like crying like 90% of the time. I just can't seem to function without him, and I really don't want to. I want to be in England with Bear. I want to feel his arms around me. I want to press my lips against his. I never want to leave him. The more serious things get, the more I want to be with him all the time. Even when we talk, the last five minutes are the hardest five minutes of my life. I know other LDR couples don't get to talk as often as we do. I know that I am extremely fortunate that Bear and I have the resources that we do. I know that there is no reason for me to be sad. I just can't help it. I want to be with Bear for forever and always. January won't come soon enough.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Meeting My New Love
In a post a long, long time ago, I mentioned that I had met someone and we were now together. I promised that I would tell all about him and how we met.
His name for the this blog will be Bear. It's part of my nickname for him. :) Anyway as you may remember, I went to England in August for a week to meet my friend Jenni. While I was here, I meet Bear. All it took was one look at him, and I knew I wanted him. The first day, the four of us (Jenni, her bf, Bear, and me) went to a pub to get something to eat. He even bought me a drink that first day. I asked Jenni the next day if it was ok with her if I went after him. I didn't want things to be awkward between everybody because I was going after her boyfriend's brother. She said that she didn't mind. After our talk, all bets were off. I even started waking up earlier so that I could spend some time with him before he went to work. There was one day when some people came over, and I spend that time with Bear. It was a couple that had come over. Jenni and Ross kept them entertained while Bear and I were kind just left to our own devices. I chose to sit on the arm of his chair and give him my number. That Friday, we had sex. It was so good. At first, I didn't want anything to do with him. I was ashamed that I had had sex with him so fast. However when I was on my way home, I missed him. I still miss him every day.
He's not the hottest guy I've ever seen (or even dated), but he's mine. When I'm with him, I feel like a princess. He even calls me princess. He cares about me and calls me his favorite girl. I like to tease him about his love affair with this English chef called Delia. It's funny. Being without him is hard, especially since I just got back from seeing him. All I want is for him to put his arms around me. Sometimes when I'm feeling sick, I want him here to cuddle me and make me feel better. It's just so hard, but I know that one day when we can be together for a long time, it'll all be worth it. If we get to spend the rest of our lives together, it'll be so worth all the hardships now. I can't wait to spend as much time as possible with him. I can't wait to see him in January.
His name for the this blog will be Bear. It's part of my nickname for him. :) Anyway as you may remember, I went to England in August for a week to meet my friend Jenni. While I was here, I meet Bear. All it took was one look at him, and I knew I wanted him. The first day, the four of us (Jenni, her bf, Bear, and me) went to a pub to get something to eat. He even bought me a drink that first day. I asked Jenni the next day if it was ok with her if I went after him. I didn't want things to be awkward between everybody because I was going after her boyfriend's brother. She said that she didn't mind. After our talk, all bets were off. I even started waking up earlier so that I could spend some time with him before he went to work. There was one day when some people came over, and I spend that time with Bear. It was a couple that had come over. Jenni and Ross kept them entertained while Bear and I were kind just left to our own devices. I chose to sit on the arm of his chair and give him my number. That Friday, we had sex. It was so good. At first, I didn't want anything to do with him. I was ashamed that I had had sex with him so fast. However when I was on my way home, I missed him. I still miss him every day.
He's not the hottest guy I've ever seen (or even dated), but he's mine. When I'm with him, I feel like a princess. He even calls me princess. He cares about me and calls me his favorite girl. I like to tease him about his love affair with this English chef called Delia. It's funny. Being without him is hard, especially since I just got back from seeing him. All I want is for him to put his arms around me. Sometimes when I'm feeling sick, I want him here to cuddle me and make me feel better. It's just so hard, but I know that one day when we can be together for a long time, it'll all be worth it. If we get to spend the rest of our lives together, it'll be so worth all the hardships now. I can't wait to spend as much time as possible with him. I can't wait to see him in January.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
She is Home
I got this off from a post on lovingfromadistance.com. I thought that it summed up long distance relationships very well and had to keep it in some way. The url of the actual post is: http://www.pvponline.com/2010/11/29/shes-home/. Anyway, enjoy!
SHE IS HOME
Angela is home. We are reunited.
Six months apart. We arranged weekend visits. Short passes through where we could remind each other what we’re like in person. But they were fleeting and, in my opinion, only served to make things worse. We are also aware how petty our hardships seem in comparison to others who also live in such times. So we’ve tried to keep a reasonable perspective. But we are human beings, which is to say that we are petty and imperfect.
Ultimately, when you miss someone this much, reasoning goes out the window.
I thought a lot about her while we were apart. I thought a lot about us. And I tried to quantify what it is that I missed the most. The lewd among us are quick to giggle and reference the physical. The romantics weep for the lack of companionship we were forced to live without. And sure it stinks to be without those things. But there was something about being apart from her that was just unbearable and I couldn’t for the life of me pin down what specifically it was.
Until this morning.
Our bedroom set consists of a large wooden frame, two nightstands and a couple of dressers. Our bedroom in Dallas was large enough to accommodate all of this, but the master bedroom in our townhouse is considerably smaller. The one available wall only has room for our bed and nightstands if one nightstand is facing the bed, instead of out. And so I turned mine inward so as not to inconvenience her.
Of course, the arrangement in and of itself immediately inconvenienced her. Just the sight of it. And this morning she became determined we could make it all fit properly.
“I have an inch between my bed and my nightstand. And another between it and the wall. We can move this to fit.”
It’s a large heavy bed and frame and headboard. I wasn’t sure we could move it without dismantling it. I suggested we just leave it be.
“I’ll sit down on this side, and push with my legs.” she instructed. “You pull on that side and we’ll move it in small nudges.”
So she sat down and braced back against the wall and her legs against the back corner of the bed. I crouched down on the opposite side and spread my legs a bit for the best leverage. We counted down from three and then the both of us gave it everything we had.
The bed didn’t even know we were trying. It was completely unaffected.
The sheer unforgiving nature of the bed sent us immediately into hysterics. We couldn’t stop laughing. Angela couldn’t stand up she was laughing so hard.
That was the moment I realized what I missed so much. Not the embraces. Not the sweet whispers. Not the physical. I missed THIS.
There are thousands of little adventures that Angela and I have embarked on, both subtle and gross that will eventually add up to equal our lives together. Adventures like our quest to move the bed this morning that ended in a noble failure full of laughter. And when we were apart, those adventures were put on hold. Which is to say that our life together was put on hold. A life that is more important than any of the specifics that make it up. What did I miss the most about Angela? All of it. Everything. I missed US.
And I think now I have a better frame of reference for beginning to understand why my father acted the way he did after my mother died. I don’t think I can bring myself to internally examine the concept of losing a mate. I think that might be a dangerous and ultimately self-defeating journey of self-examination.
I’m just glad she’s home. And that home is here. And that we can once again embark on these little adventures that will add up to equal our time together on this planet.
God bless us and keep us safe. God bless those couples who are still separated from each other. God bless others who have found such companionship because it is a rare gift. And more than anything else, God bless those couples who must justify their companionship to a society that isn’t prepared to realize that a person doesn’t get choose their gender any more than they get to choose who they fall in love with.
Amen.
SHE IS HOME
Angela is home. We are reunited.
Six months apart. We arranged weekend visits. Short passes through where we could remind each other what we’re like in person. But they were fleeting and, in my opinion, only served to make things worse. We are also aware how petty our hardships seem in comparison to others who also live in such times. So we’ve tried to keep a reasonable perspective. But we are human beings, which is to say that we are petty and imperfect.
Ultimately, when you miss someone this much, reasoning goes out the window.
I thought a lot about her while we were apart. I thought a lot about us. And I tried to quantify what it is that I missed the most. The lewd among us are quick to giggle and reference the physical. The romantics weep for the lack of companionship we were forced to live without. And sure it stinks to be without those things. But there was something about being apart from her that was just unbearable and I couldn’t for the life of me pin down what specifically it was.
Until this morning.
Our bedroom set consists of a large wooden frame, two nightstands and a couple of dressers. Our bedroom in Dallas was large enough to accommodate all of this, but the master bedroom in our townhouse is considerably smaller. The one available wall only has room for our bed and nightstands if one nightstand is facing the bed, instead of out. And so I turned mine inward so as not to inconvenience her.
Of course, the arrangement in and of itself immediately inconvenienced her. Just the sight of it. And this morning she became determined we could make it all fit properly.
“I have an inch between my bed and my nightstand. And another between it and the wall. We can move this to fit.”
It’s a large heavy bed and frame and headboard. I wasn’t sure we could move it without dismantling it. I suggested we just leave it be.
“I’ll sit down on this side, and push with my legs.” she instructed. “You pull on that side and we’ll move it in small nudges.”
So she sat down and braced back against the wall and her legs against the back corner of the bed. I crouched down on the opposite side and spread my legs a bit for the best leverage. We counted down from three and then the both of us gave it everything we had.
The bed didn’t even know we were trying. It was completely unaffected.
The sheer unforgiving nature of the bed sent us immediately into hysterics. We couldn’t stop laughing. Angela couldn’t stand up she was laughing so hard.
That was the moment I realized what I missed so much. Not the embraces. Not the sweet whispers. Not the physical. I missed THIS.
There are thousands of little adventures that Angela and I have embarked on, both subtle and gross that will eventually add up to equal our lives together. Adventures like our quest to move the bed this morning that ended in a noble failure full of laughter. And when we were apart, those adventures were put on hold. Which is to say that our life together was put on hold. A life that is more important than any of the specifics that make it up. What did I miss the most about Angela? All of it. Everything. I missed US.
And I think now I have a better frame of reference for beginning to understand why my father acted the way he did after my mother died. I don’t think I can bring myself to internally examine the concept of losing a mate. I think that might be a dangerous and ultimately self-defeating journey of self-examination.
I’m just glad she’s home. And that home is here. And that we can once again embark on these little adventures that will add up to equal our time together on this planet.
God bless us and keep us safe. God bless those couples who are still separated from each other. God bless others who have found such companionship because it is a rare gift. And more than anything else, God bless those couples who must justify their companionship to a society that isn’t prepared to realize that a person doesn’t get choose their gender any more than they get to choose who they fall in love with.
Amen.
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