Long Distance Dating

I am going to spill out some word vomit over these next several paragraphs/bullets--whatever I decided them to be--and you best opt not to read. These words will be very raw. And quite straightforward. And horribly embarrassing.

If you have not by now equated Favorite Person to what society deems a boyfriend, my boyfriend, I will attempt to make this clear for you here:

Favorite Person = Boyfriend

Favorite Person--mystery he--can/should/will, going forward, be referred to as Boyfriend. FYI: There is zero percent of me that likes that term and/or plans to begin using it in public. The term is foreign. And finite. And encourages favoritism. Never being able to compete with the allstar suckups, I learned to vehemently dislike favoritism at a young age. But alas, I have come to accept by declaring my boyfriend as my favorite person, I am doing exactly what I dislike: favoritizing. (That is going to be a word tonight. So like it. Then find a way to apply it to your life.)

After our first 'real' quarrel Monday night, I feel obliged to write about something that has been plaguing my little soul for the past, at the very least, six months. I am a processor of all things... and I am finally able to tie-up my thoughts.

My parents maintained a long distance relationship until they were married. Until they were married. They never once lived in the same town until they were married. I am going to refrain from repeating that phrase again. And this was 30 plus years ago before cell phones, texting, email, ecards, and Skype. They wrote letters UNTIL THEY WERE MARRIED. The letter concept is not entirely alien to me, as much of my current relationship was grounded in the (lost) art of letter writing. But come on, a relationship based on letter writing and the occasional visit, no thank you.

So when I started writing this on Wednesday night, I had a lot of momentum. I felt the emotion--the pang in my soul coming to life through these words. I was satisfied with the direction this story was headed. Then abruptly, a change--suddenly my unique challenges, no longer seemed unique to this relationship, long distance or otherwise. It would appear I had created an internal master list--keys to a healthy relationship--based largely on the successes I barred witness to in my upbringing.

If I continued down the path I was headed, I would spill-out for you a wellness plan, something to judge myself against.

• Are we communicating? Check. 
• Do we maintain a good sense of humor? Check. 
• Are we compromising? Check. 

At the end, my wellness plan would spit-out a sort of relationship scorecard: B-plus.

There is much to be missed with the 'report card' method as a measurement of commitment, health, and love. This barely scratches the surface of the time and effort that goes into building a tender relationship. This wellness plan would replace authenticity, in that it would require managing and upkeep.

The dragons being slayed in the adventure we are embarking on are those of ego, selfishness, and unrealistic expectations.

It has been (and will continue to be) a major learning curve. I am realizing eye-rolling, spitefulness, and the silent treatment do not generally communicate love very well. And learning what to hold back is one of the greatest gifts I can give. He is learning texting me goodnight, hanging shelves, and cooking dinner are such powerful ways to communicate love to me. 

I had allowed myself to believe people were either dependent or independent. In doing so I missed the beautiful in-between of interdependency.

We need each other...
to care enough to pay attention.
to lovingly keep one another in check.
to admit when we could use a hand, an ear, or a shoulder.

This means a million tiny decisions to believe the best of one another and to always be part of the same team. And the only kind of fighting that works is when you are fighting for each other, not against.

It is only the beginning. The beginning of choosing love. Even when it is inconvenient.