My friend Rob said it best when he said that being in a long distance relationship is like being stuck on an emotional rollercoaster. “You will endure more drops, twists, turns, and will climb such great heights that will move so quick that you barely have enough time to catch your breath,” he said. And now that I’ve come to actually be in one, what he said could’ve never been more true.
That was the same night he asked me long and hard whether or not I was ready to commit to a relationship that I knew I would have to change every single one of my bad dating habits, which include, but are not limited to: being the clingy, need-to-be-with-him-every-waking-moment, jealous, insecure, and selfish girlfriend that I’ve been in previous relationship. I couldn’t be that girl anymore. I had to understand him and understand his personality, his needs, and I had to respect that fact that there would be times when he couldn’t be there for me – both physically and emotionally.
And I won’t lie. It’s been hard.
Every night that I don’t hear from him, I worry and I wonder what it is that he’s up to and whether or not he’s thinking of me. The moment that he makes a mention of another female, I pray to the omniscient other above that he finds her unattractive, that she has a boyfriend, and sometimes even both. I wonder whether or not he makes a mention of me to every girl that he meets, let alone anyone at all.
The only thing that’s been able to soothe the aches of loneliness is knowing that we had an amazing summer together and even though our relationship is currently “in hibernation,” as he so cleverly says, I know that when we see each other it’ll wake up even for a brief moment.
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like this relationship is real because he’s not physically there to serve as proof of our existance. I guess the only way to look at it is to look at it as though it were air – you can’t see it, but you can feel it sometimes and you know it’s a part of you when you stop and take a moment to take it in.
And the time alone has allowed me to develop a relationship with myself and those around me. The absence has allowed me the opportunity to appreciate the little things that I would’ve normally glanced over, like a simple text that says hello or a special greeting with a petname tacked at the very end. I would take the random phone calls for granted otherwise, and the feeling I’d get from being in his presence would be much more diluted.
So I’m somewhat grateful even though I spend half the day worrying. But the other half, I’m good because I know that he cared enough to want to sustain and preserve (if not develop) what we had and to see where it goes. And I’m hopeful in the fact that we’ll be okay. That’s the only way I can look at it because the minute I start to doubt, that’s when I know it’s over.