“Two hundred miles? That’s nothing,” they say, scoffing. “Not with all of the technology available to people these days. Before, when all they had was snail mail? That’s when things were really rough. You kids these days are just too spoiled. Don’t you have a driver’s license, anyways?” Whenever I get this kind of response after telling someone about my long-distance relationship, I sort of shut down and give up on people for a few minutes.
Like, yeah, you’re so right, I don’t know why I never thought about it that way. Long distance is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I love trying to make my texts live up to face-to-face conversations. One of my favorite pastimes? Making futile attempts to recreate the emotional connection of our kisses through phone calls (Soulja Boi convinced me of that one).
And, Jesus Christ, don’t even get me started on the great Skype experiences provided by the absolutely incredible wi-fi I’ve been enjoying here at Lawrence and the fact that planning calls around two different sets of classes and social lives and work schedules is basically impossible. I never even considered driving home every weekend with my invisible car, but I’m sure it’ll do great things for my social life. Long distance is the best; I don’t know why the whole world isn’t doing it.
Here’s the truth, nobody likes to say it out loud because they’re afraid it makes them sound unloving or whiney, but the fact of it is: Long distance relationships suck. They always have and they always will. Nobody has ever said: Please, send the person I love hours away from me; that will strengthen our relationship and make things easier. No, what would make things easier would be if I could pull some Harry Potter shit and apparate the 200 miles, thanks. I would also settle for a private jet, if anyone has the hookups.
I spend the majority of my walks through campus shooting cute couples dirty looks. If you think it’s hard to see couples when you’re single and lonely, try being taken and insufferably lonely. Try carrying around your lack of a significant other like a pregnancy where the baby never stops kicking. That’s the sort of thing that’s led me to hate almost every couple I see.
My apologies to everyone in on-campus relationships, try not to take it personally; it’s just that I would kill for your lifestyle.
I’m not saying all of this because I’m not able to feel as in love at this distance. I’m saying it because someone needs to just be honest for a second. I need to acknowledge that, yes, I’m in the kind of love that makes me write stupid poems with dumb metaphors, and yes, I would walk every single mile to drop at her doorstop and say hi. But at the same time, it’s not like that’s an option. I’m happy to endure it, to talk about it too much, to develop extreme couple envy.
For the right people, it’s all worth it in the end. Watch out for me at parties, I’ll be the girl carrying my phone like a life preserver.