Telephonically Out Of Sync
It’s a marvel to me that I ever sustained a long-distance relationship in my life given my general distaste for the phone. But yup, there it is, that high school-turned-college relationship that lasted through freshman year past graduation (with one breakup — granted I did graduate a year early). It wasn’t really all that long ago but it was long enough that we didn’t have cell phones or unlimited long distance. We had phone cards bought at warehouse stores.
The hardest part about the long-distance thing, for me, was always this: when he’d call me (or vice versa) and I’d be in one mood and he’d been in a completely different mood and we’d try to talk and all but by the end, really I’d just be more annoyed than anything else. Sometimes I’d hang up and say, to myself, “God, sometimes I hate you.” I didn’t mean it, of course. You know how it is.
Maybe it’s because I no longer have to rely on good phone conversations to sustain a meaningful relationship or maybe it’s because I’m older and crankier or maybe it’s because we do have cell phones and blackberries and laptops and all these convenient ways to communicate fast but I sure couldn’t do the long-distance thing now, boy. My husband’s been away two days and every conversation has felt rushed and intruded upon and annoying. Every one has left me thinking of a way to say, as nicely as possible, “How about we just catch up when you get home?” or, worse, “How about you just not call me while you’re away?” Every time I’ve called him I’ve thought, just a moment too late, “Doh! I shouldn’t call while he’s away.”
It seems terrible thinking that, but there it is. And really? It’s not that terrible at all. I’m just so used to having Brian’s attention, to seeing his face. I’m spoiled, really. And lucky.
Besides. If he didn’t call the whole time, well, I’d be sad on top of annoyed. So there’s that.
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