Wicked Wednesdays

My husband and I are a product of a long-distance relationship and I think we're doing pretty well. Married almost 8 years, two lovely daughters, a house and a cat. However, we weren't long distance for very long. We met in July at an Independence Day party. He was living in Newark and I in Cleveland. We lasted until about September, when I moved to Columbus, about 35 miles away instead of 300.

But during those long-distance days, it was very unsettling. On the weekends, when one of us would manage to visit the other (usually, I would drive to see him as I was the only one with a reliable car), it was lovely. We would have a good time, hang out with his friends, go for walks in the park and amuse each other with our best charms. Then it would be time to leave. I was sad to part, but I knew I could face the week ahead after having such a great time over the weekend. Monday would be good and we would talk on the phone. Tuesday, a little less so, maybe one of us couldn't reach the other by phone. Usually, I was the one who couldn't reach him. And since I was blessed with a neurotic mind and an overactive imagination; I usually began seriously to worry.

Was he out with another girl? Could I really trust him? Maybe I really wasn't in love with him afterall. No, I was; I thought. If I couldn't get in touch with him, on Wednesday, I'd seriously start to sulk, question my motives and just plain worry. Eventually, I'd talk to him and we'd make plans for the weekend and everything would be back to butterflies and bunnies.

I couldn't take it for very long. I was compelled to pick up and move myself closer to him. I quit my job, moved in with my Aunt and Uncle in Columbus and began a much more sensible relationship with him. We were closer, but not close enough. By February of the next year, we had decided to wed and set the date for October 25. By May, I'd decided to get a little apartment in Newark and we were finally dating in a "textbook" fashion. We could go out for dinner one night, catch a movie, go for a walk, whatever and then we could do it again the next day! We actually started to work at the same place and commute together. It was rad.

I don't like to be far away from him hardly ever. Even now, after 9 years of knowing him, I still want him close. I don't even like to be in different rooms from him in our house. I don't know if that strange or not. I think he feels the same way, although he is OK with being in different rooms from time to time.

On a side note, he did have to learn how to carry on a conversation with me while one or the other of us was on the john. This was a common practice in my family; conversations didn't stop just because you had to pee. We followed each other everywhere. Although, nowadays, I give him the space he needs and I'm finding that having some space myself is good too. It's amazing how protective I have become of that 47 second time allotment for taking a leak these days. My girls seem also to be of the mind that a pee shouldn't interfere with your next converstational point.

Anyway, having a long distance love was exciting at first; then a bit agonizing, then a bit of a drag, at least for someone with the attention span of a hummingbird (yours truly). But I do think they can work. If you find yourself in one and feeling the drag, I believe a change of perspective helps. Don't get too serious, too fast. Enjoy the glamour of savoring every moment together. Also enjoy the drama of being lovelorn during your days of separation. But, whatever happens, don't take each other too seriously. There is no point in worrying about what the other is doing. There is also no point in getting carried away when you're together and doing or saying things you may regret later.

Work for balance, grasshoppers. Give each other some space. Don't crowd each other in the bathroom. And keep trying to make it work so that you both feel comfortable and safe. It really is worth it.