The first guy I fell in love with lived in Indiana. I lived here, in Baton Rouge. It was a 14-hour car ride between us, or two connecting flights.
We fell in love one summer, when I was home in Indiana. When the summer was drawing to a close, for me, there was no question whether or not we would stay together despite the distance.
Sure, I knew it was going to be difficult not seeing each other on a regular basis (this was pre-Skype), but I also knew that we were both focused on school (him more than me) and work (me more than him), and maintaining a social life.
I went back to Baton Rouge in August, and had already booked a flight to see him in October. We just had to make it two months. But in that short time, there were lots of things we missed out on together: concerts, dinners, parties… hell, I started to just wish I could go to Target with him on a Tuesday night.
His family, and I would also assume his friends, weren’t too keen on the idea of him being in a long distance relationship. And I suppose, why would they? There were girls everywhere — we were in college.
When I flew back to see him, my first flight was delayed, and I missed my connection. I cried to the airport employees: I HAD to see my boyfriend THAT day!!
There were no flights to Indiana that night. So, I hopped on a plane to Ohio, where my mom picked me up, and my boyfriend met us halfway. My luggage was still on the other flight, so I was stuck for the night with my makeup bag (I had to apply it right before we landed to ensure I looked fresh).
While our visit was pleasant and fun; I didn’t know his roommates, or many of his friends. Sure, I’d heard about them, but they didn’t know me either. And the entire time, we both just kept thinking of the inevitable: my flight back.
The morning I had to leave, was so quiet. We barely talked. And, if you’ve read this blog since its birth, you probably know that it was the last time I ever saw him. When my plane landed in Baton Rouge, he wouldn’t answer my calls.
Truth be told, I’ve always found a little bit of excitement in the idea of a long distance relationship. Think about it: you get to visit a new (or old) city while seeing your significant other; it’s like a vacation every time you see each other… you don’t get any spontaneous visits when you haven’t shaved and/or cleaned your place…
And I suppose that’s where the perks end. Because let’s be honest: traveling is expensive and timely. Anyone with a career and a life is probably not hoping to travel every weekend and essentially dating someone two days out of the week.
While it sounds glamorous if you’re Katy Perry (buuuut even she couldn’t make it work, i.e. Russell Brand), let’s consider the fact that a nice chuck of the relationship is just getting through normal life, the good (date nights, adventures, meeting the family) and the bad (chores, hardships, work stress).
Of course, there are situations that just call for long distance: probably most of these involve a career. But at some point, if the relationship is serious at least, one person in the pair is going to have to move for the other. Because… seeing people is important. And Skype, nor Facetime isn’t cutting it.
I’ve attempted many, many long distance relationships since the aforementioned — Dallas, Houston, New York, Indianapolis, Colorado… it’s a habit I’m trying to break. Perhaps there are certain types of people who are wired for the distance and I’m just not one of them.
Hours pass and she still counts the minutes that I am not there,
I swear I didn’t mean for it to feel like this, but every inch of me is bruised.
—Jack’s Mannequin, Bruised
Posted on August 3, 2015, in Light Pulp and tagged blog, cheating, cross country dating, dating, dirty thirty, facetime, Holly A. Phillips, Indiana, life, long distance, Louisiana, love, phone call, relationship, skype, The Bitter Lemon, travel, twenty-something. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.