I’m bad at remember times and anniversaries, but I know me and Stevie now are around 2 years and a half together. And yes, for those who are here for the first time, it’s a long distance relationship: I’m in Italy, he is in Northern Ireland.
As we started this story, we were full of hopes and dreams, and in all that dreaming we were seeing us finally living together in few months. Then months became years. Years became more than two. And again, two days ago, we said goodbye once more.
Who knows how many of you are thinking right now that a story between two countries is cool because: how beautiful is to travel often? I was thinking the same at the beginning: to see new places, know a different culture and meet new people. Deal with flights, trains, adventures, find myself in the middle of nowhere at any time of day and night, far from anyone knowing me, it was beautiful and exciting. For me, after years of a home-sharing relationship, to be so free was a dream. We were meeting in hotels around the world, living as stars, and if something was worrying us we were leaving it to the future, since we were sure it was just a matter of time before something was happening to solve the situation.
This way of living between the relationship and the freedom was very cool also: to share half of your life with someone and then the other half with your friends and doing your holy business is really not bad. I moved my things five times in two years, gained and lost jobs, made new friends and lost some old ones, started to talk another language. I did things I was not even hoping to think some months before, and all this alone.
All good. But then, as the story is going further and the time is passing, problems are starting. The fun fades, the places which have been new now are known, the families start to take too much confidence and the friends start to call you less, because it’s not easy to know if you are in the country or not. And always, constantly money problems. To travel costs a lot, and this is why people are traveling few times, during the holidays, and not every month or less. It’s like to be addicted to a drug: you constantly need money, you never have enough, you are always worried about not having enough. So you start to go out less, and so your friends are calling you even less. If you do something more you feel guilty with your partner, and if your partner does something too expensive you think he’s guilty: he could of keep the money instead of telling me that we’ll see each other after two months the next time.
Two months, even more. In two months you forget about people or experiences. In two months, most of the times, you pass over the death of someone you love. In two months you meet loads of people, you change idea on things, you get used to live somewhere else, you lose or gain a job. In two months anything can happen. And the most horrible thing is, if you are from long time in a long distance relationship, you already know what will happen day after day.
The first week alone you feel the missing and like no one cares about you.
Around the second week you start to argue for nothing, and mostly it’s because of the feeling of being useless that you feel against your partner and yourself too.
You will continue to argue any time you feel alone, no importance if it will be for something negative or (even worse) positive.
From the third week you start to hate Skype and Whatsapp and any other devilish thing that is putting you in that strange, fake contact any moment.
After the third week is all going better, because you just started to lose the memory of having someone with you. Your friends start to call you often, you are not anymore so much online or available, you start to look around for people to not feel anymore alone, as your memory of holding, kissing, sharing time with your partner fades. You start to get used to this life, in which the other one is further and further every day.
Then, as you got used to this life, you have to depart again or to welcome again someone who in the while became half a stranger, an old friend you don’t see from long time or something similar.
This is just a month. Two months, maybe more, until August. Who will I be in two months? Will I still be the one in love with him? I don’t know. I only know this time, as I left Stephen on the train, we were both crying. We stopped months ago to do all those romantic plays, with us kissing for the last time on the door closing, waving as the train is leaving, the one remaining following it as it goes away and then disappears. I went away before, as the train was still there, trying to not cry too much. He knows I don’t like goodbyes anymore. What he doesn’t know is I had to wait my train on the platform in front, and I stood there for about ten minutes looking at him crying. He doesn’t know even I was about to go back and, like in movies, take him down that train and tell him I was not letting him go, never anymore. And he didn’t see me go on my train as it arrived and run at the window as his train, in late, was still there waiting. And he doesn’t know I have been the one who left before.
Sorry for the sad post. I really hope we are making it again this time.