- December 20, 2024
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I get you’re fighting for our freedom, but you should still text me back.
When I’m in a relationship, there are certain expectations.
Breakfast in bed, fancy date nights and daily foot rubs are a few things on my list of non-negotiables. Some may call me needy or high maintenance, but I see nothing wrong in expecting to be spoiled rotten. I mean c'mon, I’m great.
Included in this list of demand is the aspect of distance. Typically I only date guys within a five mile radius due to laziness and an overwhelming need for someone to eat pizza with at a moment's notice.
I never saw how someone who lived hours away could fulfill my needs. Like how are they supposed to constantly chauffeur me around? Anyone who has witnessed my recent driving records knows I probably won’t survive long on my own.
Even more baffling and foreign to me are those girls that date boys in the military. They willing tolerate months without so much as a four minute phone call. If I get ignored for more than three hours I’m ready to throw a rock through a certain jerk’s window.
Still, somehow people do it. And it looks like I’m about to do it too.
Gabe is going into the army. Now I knew this when I first met him but I figured I’d just get a few free meals or so until he shipped out. But I've found myself attached and the idea of life without him is unsettling to say the least.
He ships out to basic training on Monday, which means I will only be able to communicate with him via HAND WRITTEN LETTERS for a total of nine weeks.
Normally the idea of a relationship that requires more than a minimal effort on my part is unappealing to me. So I guess this guy must mean something if I’m willing to go back to prehistoric communication just to be with him.
This whole experience makes me uneasy for many reasons. I have terrible, gorilla-like handwriting. I could always type these letters, which will be anywhere from 8-10 pages long because I’m completely psycho, but that’s losing out on the romantic "Notebook" vibe that only comes once in a lifetime. I’ll pretty much have to take out an extra three-four hours every day to write these mini novels to perfection.
I’m also trying to prepare myself for random outbursts of anger when he doesn’t text me back. I know he doesn’t have his phone and he’s a little busy getting shot at but still I’m used to constant communication. When I see him finally in July I’m not sure if I’ll hug him out of affection or hit him out of anger. It could even be both. I’m also what they call “bipolar.”
Though I've never attempted anything like this before, Gabe makes really good breakfast food and he's never been in a car accident. So in the end, I guess it's worth it.
