B
Bluepies
Guest
It’s late Christmas Eve, or if you wanna get technical, it became Christmas an hour and a half ago. It’s freakin’ snowing. I’m in my hometown with my parents, asleep downstairs, the only shred of family I have that takes less than two days to drive to. I’m still lonely. The person I want to see the most on Christmas is in Ecuador, doing the Peace Corps thing. She’s probably lonely too.
To fill you in on the story, I'm 25, and there’s this cute short girl (we'll call her "Sarah") who’s a soccer player, loves the outdoors, and loves to drink Fat Tire while watching the Longhorns. How could she get any better? There’s a reason I’ve been with her for over three years, and there’s a reason I’ve been with her that long even though we’ve spent only about half that time living in the same city. Half of that falls on me, but I also drove to Austin every weekend while I was teaching in a town an hour away for a year. And there’s a reason I plan on staying with her, even though by the time she gets back from Ecuador, only 30% of our relationship will have been spent living in the same city.
The time building up to when she left had me torn in half. I’ll admit I didn’t handle it perfectly. But understand that it was very hard. Sarah’s superior in the Peace Corps claimed that from her experience, unmarried couples have a 0% success rate. That immediately turned me into a scared, half-pathetic worrywart, and I would spend hours googling “Peace Corps Relationship” and reading people’s blogs. From everything I found, most Peace Corps volunteers hook up with other Peace Corps volunteers, or locals, or both. Some come back in a relationship, or even married, whether or not they were in a relationship before. One particular blogger stuck out: she was in grad school and took out an extra student loan to see her boyfriend of three years for the first time in eight months, only to find out that he’d been cheating on her the whole time.
Learning all this didn’t help me at all. It only made me more scared to lose her. I still wanted to be supportive, but I also didn’t want her to go. I knew I couldn’t tell her that. But I did anyway. The few blogs that had any sort of success story repeatedly emphasized that communication is key, and probably the most important thing is to have an understanding of how to communicate and what to expect before the beginning of the service. Knowing that, I kept trying to bring that up. Sarah didn’t want to talk about it. I think she thought it was me trying to talk her out of going, since I’d already told her I didn’t want her to go (mistake on my part). We never had that conversation. That only made me more frantic.
In fact, the truth isn’t so simple as “Did I want her to go or not.” I wanted her to go because I don’t want to hold her back from a lifelong goal or something that makes her happy. I don’t want her to stay here and regret it, then resent me for it. And in fact, her sense of adventure is a huge reason why I love her in the first place. I just wish at least one of her adventures could include me. But let’s be honest. Who wants their boyfriend/girlfriend of two and a half years to disappear for as long as you’ve been together? Especially when to the best of everyone’s knowledge, there’s a 0% chance of success, and a good chance they’ll cheat on you on top of that? So understandably, a big part of me didn’t want her to go. But maybe it was a selfish part of me.
The last week or so leading up to her departure was particularly emotional, rose to a breaking point, and we nearly fell apart. I’ll spare the details, mostly because I don’t want to repeat them. Only two hours after I left her at the airport, I started pedaling for Idaho (see sig for details). I had a few months to myself to think about it. I really didn’t feel much for those few months. Not much loneliness, not much sense of being left behind. I think that’s because I was having my own adventure, and I wasn’t just waiting around at home for the next email. Biking is incredibly therapeutic.
Returning to Austin is when it hit me. All of a sudden I was in social situations again. And I’ve learned that a long-term long-distance relationship makes you single in every way except for name, availability, and emotional baggage. You basically only get the bad parts of the relationship. I’m not a social butterfly to begin with, so it’s hard for me to make enough friends to take my mind off her. Fortunately, I have a roommate who’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and the best I could ever ask for. And I’ve got a job that pays enough (for now) and gives me incredibly flexible hours, to the point that I can go on a bike ride whenever I want. And like I said, biking is very therapeutic.
So I like my life, and I’m actually very happy. I’m just lonely. I miss her. It’s so much harder when they’re the one off having the adventure and you’re the one waiting at home. When they’re the one who can only write once a week and you keep Gchat up eight hours a day just in case. I’ve gone so far as to cancel the bike rides that take my mind off her because she might be online for those few hours I’d be riding. That’s probably stupid of me.
I don’t worry as much about whether or not we’ll make it. There’s really nothing I can do about it anymore, and worrying won’t help. But I still know we might not, and the thought of her hooking up with other volunteers breaks my heart. I just try to make the best of it, take what I can get, and give back more. Someday I’ll know if it was all worth it. No matter what happens, the least I’ll be left with is a few good memories and fewer pictures (most pictures of her are from her Summer adventures, none of which have included me).
I don't know why I'm writing or posting this. I just felt like writing it.
To fill you in on the story, I'm 25, and there’s this cute short girl (we'll call her "Sarah") who’s a soccer player, loves the outdoors, and loves to drink Fat Tire while watching the Longhorns. How could she get any better? There’s a reason I’ve been with her for over three years, and there’s a reason I’ve been with her that long even though we’ve spent only about half that time living in the same city. Half of that falls on me, but I also drove to Austin every weekend while I was teaching in a town an hour away for a year. And there’s a reason I plan on staying with her, even though by the time she gets back from Ecuador, only 30% of our relationship will have been spent living in the same city.
The time building up to when she left had me torn in half. I’ll admit I didn’t handle it perfectly. But understand that it was very hard. Sarah’s superior in the Peace Corps claimed that from her experience, unmarried couples have a 0% success rate. That immediately turned me into a scared, half-pathetic worrywart, and I would spend hours googling “Peace Corps Relationship” and reading people’s blogs. From everything I found, most Peace Corps volunteers hook up with other Peace Corps volunteers, or locals, or both. Some come back in a relationship, or even married, whether or not they were in a relationship before. One particular blogger stuck out: she was in grad school and took out an extra student loan to see her boyfriend of three years for the first time in eight months, only to find out that he’d been cheating on her the whole time.
Learning all this didn’t help me at all. It only made me more scared to lose her. I still wanted to be supportive, but I also didn’t want her to go. I knew I couldn’t tell her that. But I did anyway. The few blogs that had any sort of success story repeatedly emphasized that communication is key, and probably the most important thing is to have an understanding of how to communicate and what to expect before the beginning of the service. Knowing that, I kept trying to bring that up. Sarah didn’t want to talk about it. I think she thought it was me trying to talk her out of going, since I’d already told her I didn’t want her to go (mistake on my part). We never had that conversation. That only made me more frantic.
In fact, the truth isn’t so simple as “Did I want her to go or not.” I wanted her to go because I don’t want to hold her back from a lifelong goal or something that makes her happy. I don’t want her to stay here and regret it, then resent me for it. And in fact, her sense of adventure is a huge reason why I love her in the first place. I just wish at least one of her adventures could include me. But let’s be honest. Who wants their boyfriend/girlfriend of two and a half years to disappear for as long as you’ve been together? Especially when to the best of everyone’s knowledge, there’s a 0% chance of success, and a good chance they’ll cheat on you on top of that? So understandably, a big part of me didn’t want her to go. But maybe it was a selfish part of me.
The last week or so leading up to her departure was particularly emotional, rose to a breaking point, and we nearly fell apart. I’ll spare the details, mostly because I don’t want to repeat them. Only two hours after I left her at the airport, I started pedaling for Idaho (see sig for details). I had a few months to myself to think about it. I really didn’t feel much for those few months. Not much loneliness, not much sense of being left behind. I think that’s because I was having my own adventure, and I wasn’t just waiting around at home for the next email. Biking is incredibly therapeutic.
Returning to Austin is when it hit me. All of a sudden I was in social situations again. And I’ve learned that a long-term long-distance relationship makes you single in every way except for name, availability, and emotional baggage. You basically only get the bad parts of the relationship. I’m not a social butterfly to begin with, so it’s hard for me to make enough friends to take my mind off her. Fortunately, I have a roommate who’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and the best I could ever ask for. And I’ve got a job that pays enough (for now) and gives me incredibly flexible hours, to the point that I can go on a bike ride whenever I want. And like I said, biking is very therapeutic.
So I like my life, and I’m actually very happy. I’m just lonely. I miss her. It’s so much harder when they’re the one off having the adventure and you’re the one waiting at home. When they’re the one who can only write once a week and you keep Gchat up eight hours a day just in case. I’ve gone so far as to cancel the bike rides that take my mind off her because she might be online for those few hours I’d be riding. That’s probably stupid of me.
I don’t worry as much about whether or not we’ll make it. There’s really nothing I can do about it anymore, and worrying won’t help. But I still know we might not, and the thought of her hooking up with other volunteers breaks my heart. I just try to make the best of it, take what I can get, and give back more. Someday I’ll know if it was all worth it. No matter what happens, the least I’ll be left with is a few good memories and fewer pictures (most pictures of her are from her Summer adventures, none of which have included me).
I don't know why I'm writing or posting this. I just felt like writing it.
