I’ve been watching a series called The Bold Type over the last few weeks and I’m genuinely not sure if me recommending it is going to change your life or ruin it as it is gorgeously New York magazine trashy, but I honestly absolutely love it. The inner Gossip Girl OG in me just loves the relationship between three friends working at a girly mag, who tackle everything together blah blah blah. But what I love more is a particular character’s ability to turn her personal experiences into banging articles for a magazine. (Tiny Jane, looking at you kid).
So that’s what I’m… sort’ve/not at all trying to do here. I’m sat in a Cafe Nero with zero wifi and a cold latte – why on earth is it impossible to get a hot latte unless you request it to be extra hot, and then when you do so, the barista’s like “take that fucker, you want it hot? How’s having no skin on the top of your mouth anymore?” – and I’m trying to put pen to paper (grown out finger nails to keys) to wax lyrical about long distance relationships. Because I’m in one… with a 6’4 god of a kind, caring amazing human being but fuck me, long distance is hard. And today I’m struggling with it, so I’ve decided that today you’re all my therapists and by getting it out it’s gonna help.
I always said long distance wouldn’t bother me because if you found “the one”*, you found one (*a concept in itself I don’t believe in but let’s not let the truth get in the way of a good story.) And then I went through a phase of being so totally and utterly against it because I wanted my person within a tube journey away and I absolutely did not want to have to wait weeks to see him. The thing is, many many months into a LDR (not me being 28 and trying to make an acronym cool. Not me), I still kinda stand by both of the above statements. I do wholeheartedly believe that if you want to be with that person, you’ll make it work regardless, but I do also believe that it has the ability to put a strain on a relationship like no other.
When I first met my boyfriend, the whole LDR was almost a little romanticised. He drove a 5 hour round trip to see me for an hour’s socially distanced walk (yes I know, but he’s mine so back off). We took it in turns to travel and visit each other and always made fucking adorable plans inside because yes, not only were we LDR, but we were also in the middle of a lockdown (you could still mix with your bubble but nowhere was open to go to). So yeah, it was sort’ve romantic and cute af. It was also 10x more intense than I’d ever experienced which actually may well be to do with the fact that he’s the first decent man I’d ever met but probably more to do with the fact that you have to consider the other person’s schedule and life etc. etc. almost as much as you do your own. I mean, you absolutely don’t have to but if you don’t, it ain’t working out pals. LDR are like one giant leap of faith where you’re like, Dear new penis, please don’t hurt me I promise I’m good and nice and I really don’t want to have wasted hundreds of pounds on train tickets for someone who ends up liking a thousand tits on Instagram a day and doesn’t see DM slides as cheating.
BRB whilst I slam my head face first into the table and feel cold latte splash into my week old hair as I reminisce over some of the absolute shit shows that had the audacity to even bother dating me.
Anyway, back to love lol. So yeah, when I get asked for advice on LDR, I always say…. is he/she/they good? Do they make you feel amazing? Do they share your morals? Do they (Mum don’t read this) blow your mind in bed? Are they so amazing that even after the longest, hardest most awful day, you want to sit on a sweaty miserable train for hours to go and see them? And if the answer is yes, then I say, go get em tiger. Or something of a similar ilk but with more class. The moral of the story is, it isn’t about the distance, it’s not about big scary decisions… it’s about the person. And if you think they’re worth it, then you owe it to yourself to give it your best shot.
And if they’re a bellend, then my god there are PLENTY more fish in the sea. Most of those fish will be blobfishes – yes I did just google ugly, awful, horrible fishes – but they’re still out there.
But you do owe it to yourself to see if that person could be “IT” (another concept I don’t entirely vibe with) because if you don’t try, you’ll never know. And personally, I’d rather a big fat pie in my face and a bank account riddled with Trainline receipts than a what if?
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