So once again I grapple with the distance thing. It seems that my relationships tend to fall into one of two categories. The religion thing or the distance thing. It pays to have a sense of humour about these things *grin*
I never said I had sworn off long- distance relationships. I just said I wasn’t a big fan. Having done them for a while, to some degree of success, I do believe however that I am more optimistic than most about their practicality and survival rates.
I know all the depressing statistics, trust me; I researched them like my life depended on it the first time around. I still wouldn’t advise them unless you both really want it to work.
But there is something to be said about them. The first relationship that meant anything to me was long distance. I was 16; he 17 and we thought we were going to get married. We didn’t. Through him however I learnt how much I valued being able to talk to the one and how much I enjoyed having a life apart from him.
Ten years on I find myself in another such relationship and I have to admit I do see things a little differently. Though I don’t feel like I’ve changed much, my perception is definitely a little different.
The challenges are still the same. It’s still the simple things that get me. I wonder when we can do things as simple as watching telly on the same sofa or see each other for a random unplanned coffee. I still miss him the most in that instant just after we say goodbye.
I know however I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t see the possibility of a future in his eyes. I would not do this for an indefinite period of time anymore. Where once I was happy to wait on the possibility of a possibility, I now need more concrete plans. It’s a mollifying thought that ten years older, I also have more control over those plans.
I still however keep every finger crossed. And I still know that with each goodbye a little part of me dies momentarily.
Photo courtesy of Rrinie on Flickr.
I never said I had sworn off long- distance relationships. I just said I wasn’t a big fan. Having done them for a while, to some degree of success, I do believe however that I am more optimistic than most about their practicality and survival rates.
I know all the depressing statistics, trust me; I researched them like my life depended on it the first time around. I still wouldn’t advise them unless you both really want it to work.
But there is something to be said about them. The first relationship that meant anything to me was long distance. I was 16; he 17 and we thought we were going to get married. We didn’t. Through him however I learnt how much I valued being able to talk to the one and how much I enjoyed having a life apart from him.
Ten years on I find myself in another such relationship and I have to admit I do see things a little differently. Though I don’t feel like I’ve changed much, my perception is definitely a little different.
The challenges are still the same. It’s still the simple things that get me. I wonder when we can do things as simple as watching telly on the same sofa or see each other for a random unplanned coffee. I still miss him the most in that instant just after we say goodbye.
I know however I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t see the possibility of a future in his eyes. I would not do this for an indefinite period of time anymore. Where once I was happy to wait on the possibility of a possibility, I now need more concrete plans. It’s a mollifying thought that ten years older, I also have more control over those plans.
I still however keep every finger crossed. And I still know that with each goodbye a little part of me dies momentarily.
Photo courtesy of Rrinie on Flickr.
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