“I don’t deal with time wasters, I’m off to the Slaughtered Prince for a pint.” Neil Gaiman, Stardust
Time is a luxury. Especially when it is free. I love being free, unencumbered. I get days off so rarely I guard them jealously like a dragon hoards gold.
Graham. He’s the one too boring to warrant a nickname.
I have negotiated with the universe to get that time back.
When I left him I moved into a cute, tiny crooked house. I was working 2 jobs then as well.
Its déjà vu all over again.
Except I used to monkey bar from one relationship to another, feet never touching the ground. Not anymore.
I left Graham for Jesus.
Sounds really simple as I type it. It wasn’t.
It was hell, both the living with him and the leaving.
I told him I was leaving and he came at me with fists. I ran to the bathroom, didn’t get the door shut in time. He threw me into the shower stall and fed me punches until his brother pulled him off of me.
All doubts I had about leaving went down the drain along with the blood pouring from my split lip.
He picked me up and stood guard over me for the second time after I had been beaten. Kissed my forehead because my mouth was in ruins, again.
I am at that point where this article divides. I am messaging with a girlfriend who is where I was when I was with Graham. Domesticated. And that just simply cannot be for me for her for lots of us. Kinda leads into what I really wanted to talk about.
Long distance relationships.
The general consensus is that a physical distance between lovers is something that must be endured.
I say nay. I disagree. I savour it.
I didn’t really date in high school (another story for another day). What I had was ‘summer boys’. Cottagers from far away. We ate ice cream, held hands, swam in my lake and when I was old enough there was sweaty groping teenage sex in the great outdoors. Suited me fine. I had friends to hang out with, a job and lived with a perpetual delicious grin that is born of something/someone to look forward to.
“The truth is that airports have seen more sincere kisses than the wedding halls” Unknown.
Something about that separation and coming back together pleases me, pleases most of us. It’s the absence in between we can’t handle because a lot of people depend on their partners for a percentage of their own happiness.
Not sure I ever did. I didn’t really know what happy was. I didn’t know who I was so how could I possibly understand the things that made me happy? I mean I kinda knew, but those were the things that immediately got put aside when I tripped and fell into any of the long series of long term relationships.
I would hand them a knife and let them carve pieces from me so I fit into them.
I didn’t realize this is not how it is done. “I am no longer searching for my other half, I am not a half” Unknown.
I am a romantic girl at heart, I really am. Things that only happen in movies happen to me because I believe they will with all of my silly, clumsy heart. I have come to see that I write and direct the movie that is my life and in my movie the boy chases the girl in the rain because he is afraid he will never see her again.
I spent 18 years in 3.5 long term relationships. As odd as it sounds, none of them were really my choice, save Jesus. And he was married to someone else for the bulk of it (hence the .5)
It sounds strange but it’s true. I would be single for a month or two, I would meet someone new, go on a few dates and all of a sudden we were living together and he’s yelling at me about bills and laundry.
The fuck? How did I get here and more importantly how the fuck do I get out?
I never did get a gold watch for my years of indentured servitude. Just black eyes and blackmail. One actually stole my dog and made me buy her back. Classy.
Jesus was my choice.
We had met 6 years prior, he had just gotten out of a relationship. He wasn’t ready for another. I was so I bailed rather than waiting
I spent years regretting it and being his mistress.
For the record, that is not how this works either. We had some good movie moments though. Pebbles at my window. I stormed off a few times and he chased me.
Years later I saw his name in a friend’s sketchbook. My eyes lit up, and he said “Oh ya, Jesus got divorced last year, says he’s been looking for you the whole time.” It was pretty romantic.
I sent him an email that night that said very plainly
when are you coming home
as soon as I can
He was living in Montreal.
Saw him 3 weekends a month, we checked in every other day or so.
My life was then, as it is now. 2 jobs, friends and I write a lot. I live in a crooked little house.
As I look back and examine my life panning for the gold in the muck, I see how good it felt to be with someone and still keep my semblance of self.
Something wonderful happened when I took my life back. I got exponentially happier every day. I found things I’d once held sacred and lost. When I started to find myself, others found me. People who like my quirks and strangeness because they have their own.
I love my apartment, reminiscent of Carrie Bradshaw’s from Sex and the City. I will be like her soon, writing for a living. I like this life path I am on, why wouldn’t I? It’s finally my choice. I know myself and what I require and I have the luxury of waiting for someone that fits into me. I built this existence with my own two hands and I’m happy here.
I was made for this. This is what I really want someone who has enough of their own life that I get to keep mine. And airport kisses.
“My alone feels so good, I’ll only have you if you’re sweeter than my solitude.” Warsan Shire
And just as important…
“If you build it he will come.” Field of Dreams