Love Story

I get asked pretty regularly how I survive my very long distance relationship. And I get asked pretty regularly how I've done it for nearly 6 years and we're still trying to get into the same place permanently.

The first answer is easy. We have Skype, we have email, we have iMessage. We talk to each other constantly. I talk to him 5-6 times a day and message all day. We share photos of our day, we relate our lives to each other in minute detail. And then we get home and we Skype we catch up on the news, social events, constantly talk tech, politics, gaming, comics, movies. We watch movies together because we can perfectly time our Apple TV's so we're in sync. We talk pretty constantly for 3-4 hours on Skype, plus during the day.

We have everything you have in your in person relationship, except that we're cooking for one and we desperately miss the cuddles, the kisses, and the intimacy that comes with being in the same country.

How do we do this for nearly 6 years?

Every day with him is a gift. All my previous relationships involved me giving more, being more, than my partner. I had to sacrifice so much to be with the person in loved. In a couple of relationships I nearly sacrificed my sanity to be with my chosen love. In this relationship we are equal. He encourages me to have my career, my passions, he builds my strength and confidence in myself every day, and he has never judged me for how I manage my fairly constant anxiety. He has never once asked me to not take medication. He has never once told me it's all in my head. He supports me every day through all my choices and I do the same for him.

Over the last 5+ years I have learned so many wonderful details of the man I love. From his terrible handwriting, to the time he spends in the shower, to the fact his poems always rhyme and he has no idea how to cook Spanish rice, but can tell me how to cook Spanish rice, it's all contributed to this glue that is us and what we're becoming.

Every day I learn new things, about what he loves, what we share, the passions and hopes we have for our future together and the children we want, the life we hope to live when we manage to make our dreams become a reality.

All those things are magical to me. And so, when someone asks how it is we can do this thing for so long, it mystifies me, because how can we not?

My dad always told me this story that he said was from Norse mythology.

In the beginning there was no man, no woman, there was just one being, one whole, perfectly balanced. Then the gods shook the earth and the being split in half and the halves were scattered all around the world, destined to search high and low for the other half that achieved the perfect balance. Sometimes that perfect half is a perfect friend, someone who understands you when you don't even understand yourself. Sometimes it's a life partner that gives you the strength to be all you want to be. They bring your soul peace.

In my life Americo is that. Both perfect friend, and perfect life partner. He is yin to my yang. Together we are the balance that allows us both to find where we are supposed to be. We never step in front of each other, trying to be first, we simply side by side provide the support that makes us bother stronger, better people.

There is no answer to why we keep doing this, how we can be this strong, this committed, this enduring. We simply are, because the alternative is that to be without each other doesn't make any sense at all.

Because we are us. And us is amazing.

Picture Tuesday

I started this blog to document my trip to San Francisco in 2010. It's evolved, as blogs do, but after spending hours looking at the amazing photos on Claire Porter.net  I've been inspired to drag out some of my favourite pictures of this year. Or last year as it turns out.

I may put more effort into taking photos this year. I miss it.

Maybe I'll see you here next Tuesday.

I'm here, he's not, and fuck the whole world.

Everyone that knows me is probably pretty sick of my long distance relationship whining. Which is fair enough, because about every 3-4 months or so I do one of these posts about how despondent I am after leaving my fiance at an airport.

This post is no exception.

I picked up Americo at the Sydney airport on April 4th this year. It seems completely impossible that three months have gone by in the cliched heart beat and I've had to take him back to Sydney to see him smile at me sadly before he goes around the corner into security.

I had thought, this being our fourth adventure into this particular piece of heart break, that this time might be easier, and for most of the trip it was. I was holding it together so well, no tears, super tough, til 3/4 of the way home.

And then there was a guy singing on a podcast I love and shit totally went south. I had no idea who he was, since as far as I know we don't get the Voice over here, but this guy was singing solo and it killed me. The simple start of Water to Wine and the tears started, by half way through the song I had to pull over, and had to stay on the side of the road sobbing for a good 30 minutes. Damn that Nakia (songs are available on iTunes, check them out).

Anyway, made it home safely, did the groceries, and sobbed my way around an empty house which is too quiet, and smells like his cologne.

The couch is too empty, the bed too big, and the whole fucking world is stupid and I hate you all with your husbands, wives, partners in the same city as you. Even the same country as you. The same continent. I hate you all.

It's all cliche that you appreciate things more if you have to work for them, and it seems to be true in this case, since every trip, and every absence makes this both easier and harder in equal measure. And it's more worth it every day, because I love this guy, from his stupid ass jokes (you really have NO IDEA just how stupid they are) to his dumb notes on the pantry telling me to eat vegetables.

One day soon we'll figure our shit out, he'll sell a movie, I'll pay out my debt, and I'll move to California because he's there, and I'm here, and that's just stupid.