International Couple

The past several days in Sydney have been passing excruciatingly slowly. This has a little to do with boredom. I’ve been here nearly three months without working. I’ve had more than enough time to visit everything in Sydney that sparks my interest—two or three times in some cases. But the crawling passage of time has even more to do with an unbearable feeling of anticipation. I’ve been here nearly three months without seeing Andy. Tomorrow I’ll be boarding a plane that will finally bring me to him. And as the time of my departure approaches, each hour seems to pass more slowly than the one before.

Our separation has been hard. It has become a little easier with time, if only because my memories have grown less vivid as they’ve become less recent. I’ve adjusted to Andy being present only through electronic messages, slightly distorted voice and occasional pictures. He’s taken on a sort of abstractness. To such a degree that being in close geographical proximity again seems strangely unbelievable, and actually makes me a little nervous. And though this abstractness has reduced the initial, sharper pain to a dull ache, I don’t like it.

Usually we can work around the distance and express our love for each other through the means we have available. But sometimes it really feels like we’re on opposite sides of the world. When schedules don’t align. When words, unaided by visual cues, just don’t come out right. When one of us is off-kilter. And especially when, as so often happens, technology gets in the way. Internet access in our respective countries is not what we’re accustomed to. There are frequent disconnections, delays, weird electronic interjections and total Internet outages in the middle of our conversations. Sometimes we barely have time to rehash our day-to-day activities. Most of the time we spend talking is taken up by the sentiments that overwhelm everything else: “I miss you” and “I love you.”

Since the time that we have to connect each day is limited, it sometimes seems excessively important and precious. It feels like we no longer have the space to be silly. And being silly, inventing absolutely fantastic scenarios and characters, used to be an important element of our relationship. When we do have a chance to make up something ridiculous and laugh at it, laugh really hard, it’s wonderful. It’s a sudden and startling return to what our relationship used to be like before all the international seriousness crept in. And it illustrates how things have changed.

They haven’t changed beyond recognition. The foundations of love, affection, and mutual respect are still there. But there are small differences. We’re not quite as close as we once were. That’s inevitable, given the 10-hour time difference and 10,543 miles between us. And it’s not irreparable. I have a feeling that physical closeness will allow us to regain what we’ve lost very quickly. There’s an additional gravity. There’s extra frustration. There are tests of trust, patience, maturity and commitment.

There’s also, unfortunately, a bit of jealousy on my part. Andy has been doing a brilliant job of making the most of his experience in France. He’s meeting people and being invited to hikes, dinners and events as a result. He’s sitting in on extra classes. He’s taking tango lessons. Essentially, he’s finding and taking advantage of all sorts of opportunities. And I can’t help being envious. I feel a little like I’ve failed. I didn’t find a job. I didn’t really make friends. I know I ultimately made the decision to call it quits. But I can’t help having a sneaking suspicion that I was fired. That I didn’t do everything I could have to make myself happy in Sydney. That’s all usually short-lived. I want Andy to be doing exactly what he is. And I’m exceedingly proud of him.

For all the difficulties, living in opposite hemispheres done us quite a lot of good. Maintaining a really-long-distance relationship is something I hadn’t dealt with on previous experiences abroad. It made things a little harder. But, paradoxically, it also made them easier. Andy has been caring, encouraging, sympathetic, optimistic and supportive. He still has the ability to make me happy, even across multiple oceans. He’s worked really hard to make sure that this separation is as painless as such a thing can be. So have I. And it seems to have worked. This hasn’t been quite as hard as I anticipated. If anything, it’s made me more certain that I love Andy and will for a long time. I’ve felt a little empty the past few months. But I’m reserving that emptiness for Andy. And it’ll be filled tomorrow.