This whole situation has been driving me absolutely crazy. My friends keep telling me to make a call—either get together or cut ties—but I can’t give them a straightforward answer. We spend hours on the phone every night. No matter how exhausting my workday was, the second I hear her voice, I feel like I’ve come back to life. We just click. I can make the dumbest, most obscure joke, and she catches it faster than anyone else.
There have been so many times when I wanted to impulsively buy a plane ticket, fly over there, and say, “Let’s just be together.” But that can only ever be an impulse. When I calm down, reality is sitting there like a brick wall. She wants to settle near her parents, who aren’t in the best health, and she already has a stable job waiting in her hometown. I have built my career in a major city, and my own family situation means I can’t simply throw everything away and start over there. Our futures aren’t on the same track.
So I tear myself apart every day. One part of me says we’re adults—why does a relationship have to be about the next thirty years? Why can’t we just be happy right now? Whenever she texts me about lunch or something funny that happened, I think, screw the future, I want this right now. But when we hang up and my room goes quiet, the anxiety hits. The more we rely on each other, the more devastating it will be if we eventually have to part ways. And if I know I can’t give her the life she wants, am I just being selfish by keeping her in this ambiguous place?
Last night, right before we hung up, she paused and said, “I really wish we were in the same city.” My throat completely closed up. I couldn’t get a single word out. I still don’t know whether to choose the short, sharp pain of ending things now or keep going until reality forces us apart. All I know is that every time we say goodbye, it hurts a little more than the time before.
This whole situation has been driving me absolutely crazy. My friends keep telling me to make a call—either get together or cut ties—but I can’t give them a straightforward answer. We spend hours on the phone every night. No matter how exhausting my workday was, the second I hear her voice, I feel like I’ve come back to life. We just click. I can make the dumbest, most obscure joke, and she catches it faster than anyone else.
There have been so many times when I wanted to impulsively buy a plane ticket, fly over there, and say, “Let’s just be together.” But that can only ever be an impulse. When I calm down, reality is sitting there like a brick wall. She wants to settle near her parents, who aren’t in the best health, and she already has a stable job waiting in her hometown. I have built my career in a major city, and my own family situation means I can’t simply throw everything away and start over there. Our futures aren’t on the same track.
So I tear myself apart every day. One part of me says we’re adults—why does a relationship have to be about the next thirty years? Why can’t we just be happy right now? Whenever she texts me about lunch or something funny that happened, I think, screw the future, I want this right now. But when we hang up and my room goes quiet, the anxiety hits. The more we rely on each other, the more devastating it will be if we eventually have to part ways. And if I know I can’t give her the life she wants, am I just being selfish by keeping her in this ambiguous place?
Last night, right before we hung up, she paused and said, “I really wish we were in the same city.” My throat completely closed up. I couldn’t get a single word out. I still don’t know whether to choose the short, sharp pain of ending things now or keep going until reality forces us apart. All I know is that every time we say goodbye, it hurts a little more than the time before.
