Long distance relationships
When you get to my grand old age of 33, you tend to find there are people around you in life, who have had their hearts broken, bashed in or generally tossed away on a garbage pile somewhere and left for dead. At work there are many people like me. However, there are also many people who are still with their first loves, who still find happiness in their souls when their loved ones ring up, or when they talk about them. I can’t help but be cynical.
After my own experiences of love, I would have sneered at them and thought, one day you’ll find out the truth, that it’s not all that good. That there isn’t always a happy ending. However, a few words here and there, and meeting MM, walking with him through pathways in parks, riding around and breaking my poor ass in on the bike, and sharing a few nights with him, holding his hand, eating, or getting drunk, or just being together has changed that.
So now I live the worst kind of life, the one of having a long distance relationship. I thank god for the miracle of the internet, and I keep hoping that WWIII will wait until he and I reside in the same hemisphere before it breaks out, because I just don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t spend the end of days with him. I don’t think about my family, I have outgrown them. I love them, but I choose to care for MM, and my need to be affectionate and share life with him.
Instead of feeling cynical and righteous at those who have got the perfect life, in general terms because let’s face it, nothing is perfect, I envy the fact they can spend every night, together. I languish at the end of a headphone/microphone connected via usb to my laptop, which is connected via ethernet to my NB5 router, hooked into my phone line, to the dslam and then off across various networks around the planet to spend a few precious hours talking to someone I can’t see, smell, touch or kiss for a few more hard months.
It’s hard, it’s painful, but I hope, ultimately the price I pay now, will be worth the joy then.