Before
I’m writing this from the Columbus airport. It’s Wednesday afternoon, and my flight leaves in about an hour. I get to see my boyfriend tonight, the same boyfriend I haven’t seen since the middle of July.
Long distance is hard—anyone who’s been in a long distance relationship, or friendship, or anything, really, can tell you that. There’s a lot to relationships that are physical. The “physical” part, yes, but also smiling and holding hands and having a comforting presence next to you as you binge-watch sitcoms. But in long distance that’s all replaced with the ding of yet another text message.
But all that loneliness and missing isn’t constant, no matter how it feels in the moment. It’s broken up by visits—at least in my experience. This is one of those visits.
I know I set my expectations too high for these trips. I imagine everything going perfectly, picture these four days as being the best four days of my life—because I’m with him. Now, don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty darn amazing. But it won’t be perfect. Being close to him won’t solve all my problems. I’ll still have the stress of schoolwork, of travelling, of everything else.
No matter how well everything goes, this visit won’t be as perfect and incredible as it was in our three months of daydreaming.
But it’ll be better than being apart. And that’s what matters
After
I meant to write the second half of this article in the Seattle airport on my way home, but I was exhausted and also crying a lot, so I’m writing after I’ve been back at Kenyon for a couple of days.
I got to see my boyfriend last weekend. And it was wonderful.
After my last visit—which, while great, certainly didn’t go according to plan—I was careful to lower my expectations for this trip. You can see that above. The good thing about lowered expectations is that they aren’t hard to surpass, and seeing him over break blew those expectations out of the water. Not perfect, of course, but pretty close.
There’s always a worry—for me, at least—going into these visits. What if our relationship works long distance, but what if, when we get together, we realize we were just in love with the idea of the person? What if I’m misremembering or exaggerating how much I want to spend time with this person, and what if real life doesn’t hold up?
Valid worries, but luckily not the case. Except for the initial airport crying (I cry a lot…), it was like we’d never been apart. We established a rhythm and a routine—even in this brand new environment, even after nearly three months of texts and phone calls.
We found the balance between going out and exploring, but also just curling up on the couch and watching TV. We found what works for us.
The hardest part was leaving. It’s always the hardest part. Somehow, in just four days, I forgot what it felt like to be alone. To not automatically grab his hand when we walk down the street. To watch The Office without using him as a pillow. To not see his face every day, and simply to not have him nearby.
Leaving is hard because being there was so great.
So we’re back to near-constant texting. And to calls during his drive home from work. Now is the time when I have to find that old routine, the one I figured out over the two-thirds of our relationship where we’ve been apart.
And I have to remember how great trips can be, even though they, of course, have their rough patches and crying. I have to remember that we’ve figured out what works for us, and at this point it’s just a countdown until we’re together again.
Image Credits: Mark Nelson, Megan Nelson, Paige Ballard, Sterling Nelson