Long distance only a short while longer…

August 1, 2008 § Leave a comment

Last night I went to dinner at the home of the university’s Rabbi chaplain and his wife, a young couple that are just amazing and really know how to make a foreign student feel welcome.  They just had a baby girl and the five girls at dinner couldn’t get enough of her little toes and crazy-long black hair.  We ended up staying very late, until almost 11:30, passing the sleeping baby around and talking baby stuff.

When we were leaving I checked my phone and saw that my boyfriend had texted me during dinner.  “Where are you?”  When I finally got back to my room (at almost midnight) there were three phone messages waiting for me on Skype, the final one ending with, “I’m getting worried.”

I texted him back to say I was home.  I tried calling his cell phone.  Three time.  I texted again.  No answers, straight to voicemail.  Now I was getting worried.  I called and texted a couple more times, and got into bed.  I was exhausted but I couldn’t sleep.  I am a generally anxious person, and in bed I was left with nothing to do but write my own worst scenario playbook.  I layed in bed, awake, picturing thugs in leather jackets in a dark, Philadelphia alley way, silently screaming “Dave!  Don’t be a hero, just give them the keys!”

He was fine, of course, but I had a miserable night’s sleep.  This my friends, is why I am so excited to move back to the United States in two weeks.  Long distance relationships are possible, and sometimes (like this time) they are worth it.  But god almighty, they are not easy.  Even if everything is going swimmingly in your relationship, the daily problem of getting ahold of each other can be hell.  I imagine it’s much easier when you’re only one or two time zones apart, or perhaps if you are within the same country and can call each other on a domestic phone plan, but this transatlantic shit is tough. 

I’m moving back to the United States in two weeks.  I am actually leaving my program about a month early to do so.  Part of me feels like a loser – like going home a little early is like “giving up.”  I hate this feeling. 

But at the same time, I know why I am doing it.  And I don’t regret it.  This year in England has given me many things.  I won’t get anything new out of the experience by staying another month.  And he is waiting for me.  And he matters, so much.

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