I don’t know how people survived long distance relationships before without the multitude of technology at their fingertips.
Today A is sending me paint colours to help him pick a colour for his bathroom. Of course I’ve never seen his bathroom in person but I have seen the tour of his house on Skype AND the new tiling he did in images and video so I wouldn’t be blindly helping him pick a colour.
Yesterday he drove to Kingston with a friend, and sent the below images along the way:
Obviously it’s not the same as being there, but every little bit helps to stay connected.
Long distance is hard. It’s much harder than I thought it would be. I am glad for technology and the ability to keep in touch with A throughout the day. I often send him the most mundane things – images, videos – over WhatsApp. He has seen so many images of my dogs, my clothes, things I’ve bought, food I’ve made. I’m just trying to keep him “in the loop,” so to speak.
The one thing that has been good though is that I have no trust issues with this man. There are no alarm bells, or anything that would even suggest there’s something else going on down in Jamaica than what I’ve been told. When I call him, I reach him, every time. If he’s with people he will still talk to me, and on video no less. And when he’s out with friends he will often hop on the free wifi and call me via Skype to talk. A man with something to hide would not behave this way – I should know, I’ve been with enough men who had something to hide!
Regardless, the distance is hard. There’s a lot to be said for being able to just touch someone. It’s also expensive to call the Caribbean, and sometimes Skype is not an option. I’m scared to see my upcoming phone bill actually – the first week he was gone we blew through 600 minutes of airtime, and that doesn’t factor in the time spent talking over wifi. At $0.25/minute that can really add up.
It’s all worth it though….and only 44 more days to go before I’m in Jamaica!
After hearing A’s voice yesterday sounding so not like him I went home and got started on the care package. I decided to make chocolate chip shortbread cookies since I figured they would hold up better in transit (they are delicious, by the way).
These smelled amazing when they were baking.
And they tasted even better.
I packed the cookies carefully in this tupperware container with a shitload of waxed paper to hold everything in place. I didn’t want the cookies to be tossed around and arrive crumbled, that would be such a waste. I finished it off with a bow, just because I’m awesome like that.
I also included the “pantygram” – panties picked up from the grocery store (gotta love Loblaws, where I can pick up panties, milk, and nail polish at the same time).
Actually I picked the card up there too and I thought it was pretty fitting – the inside says:
“What the hell is up with this?
I included a personal message but since it’s personal I won’t share it here. Oh, and the fabric envelope came from work because we have a million of these types of things around, which is going to make it really easy for me to nicely package the other things I want to send him….
The silver lining about this different country thing we have going on is that it gives me the opportunity to be super crafty. I have ideas, so many ideas, for things to make and send him. I can barely contain myself!
After being literally exhausted yesterday I passed out early and actually slept a straight 8 hours through the night. I felt amazing when I woke up, but A called me before work and seems to be really missing us (I think by “us” he means me and the dogs because he really bonded with Molly – see below!) and that made me sad.
I’m planning on sending him a care package tomorrow filled with homemade cookies and my own pantygram (new panties, not worn!) and this morning I sent this image to him to cheer him up:
To which he replied:
At least our sense of humour is still intact!
The cold has settled into my bones it seems. Not great timing – after dropping A off at the airport this morning I went home and got into bed to try and get another few minutes of sleep. I was so cold, even fully clothed. It was like my bed was chastising me for laying in it alone after having another human being in it for 7 nights straight. There was no warm body to steal heat from and I might resort to having the dogs sleep on the bed again so I can stay warm at night.
It was a good weekend, though bittersweet. It didn’t really hit me until last night that he was leaving and I started tearing up during sex. Really now, could my eyes not have waited until after sex to leak?
– It snowed! I was really hoping for the first snow while he was still here. There’s just something romantic about those first few flurries, especially when you’re huddled in a warm bed together.
– I took a detour offroad Saturday just for fun. His reaction to almost getting stuck in a mud pit was pretty funny. Apparently offroading/mudding is strictly a white person thing – but he admitted after he calmed down that he had fun.
Now I guess the countdown begins to when I fly out to visit him – 63 days!
The very last weekend with A is about to begin – come Monday morning he will be on a plane back home, where I won’t see him until January 28th.
I am keeping positive though by making plans to keep busy dancing and sleeping more. I’ll be starting to take classes starting next week – Bellydance, Urban Bellydance, and Dancehall – for fun and for exercise and to hopefully compensate for the lack of sex I’ll be having in the coming months. Sex though has been the reason I’ve barely slept this week. I’ve been going to bed at the usual time but being woken up at 2:30/3am to A groping me. I’m not complaining though, I’d rather have sex and no sleep than no sex at all given the upcoming circumstances.
I think I’ll really miss him though, and for more than just the sex.
Quite literally I am dead tired. A has been staying over every night this week, and will continue to until Sunday night. I am getting in as much time with him as possible before he leaves, but this means that I am also getting up at 4am to drive him back to his place to get ready for work, then going back home to sleep for another hour before I have to get up again. Even multiple doses of coffee are not doing enough this morning to keep me awake and focused, and I think today will be a write-off work-wise. I would love nothing more than to head home for a couple hours and nap!
I’ve decided to spend the time apart being productive rather than moping around, and have found a dance studio close by that has drop-in classes. I’m super excited to start dancing again – it’s fun and I always feel amazing after – not just because of the endorphins from the workout but I have better body image when I dance consistently, and who doesn’t want to just naturally feel better about themselves?
Two divorce posts back to back! I guess filing the paperwork really did have an impact on me.
While perusing the Huffington Post I came across this article and thought I would share my own.
The moment I knew it was over was when his image came up on a gay hookup app while he was sitting across from me on the couch.
I thought he was hiding something from me when I noticed one Friday night that he put his phone down every time I walked near him, and picked it back up whenever I sat back down and couldn’t see the screen. I texted my friend that night “I think Joe is hiding something from me.”
Fast forward one week to Saturday morning. He was sitting on the side of the bed, not aware that I was already awake. I noticed that he was on an app, but I didn’t know which one. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. He shut his screen off quickly when he realized that I was awake. Once I was up I went to the app store and downloaded the first hookup app that popped up. It was the same one – same colour scheme and same layout as the one I had glanced on his phone earlier that morning. I don’t even think I had to login to find him – the app works by finding users in the same vicinity, and his image and location (5 feet from me) was the first one on the list.
And that was the moment.
I called my father and arranged to meet him. I told him that I needed a divorce. I showed him what I found. We both cried. When I got home I asked Joe whether he was looking for hookups again (note the use of the word “again”) and he immediately said yes. Then he started packing.
I’m going to stop now because I’m honestly feeling physically ill remembering this.
I am not dead.
A leaves in less than two weeks. I have been counting down while trying not to count down and spending as much time with him as possible while I can. I admit that I have been off these past few days – whether it’s the changing weather or the knowledge of his imminent departure I’m not sure. I have a lot of concerns about him leaving, about us when he leaves, and I hate that none of it is within my control. I hate not having control.
A few weeks ago my ex-husband emailed to tell me that he’s leaving for Calgary this coming Sunday and he wanted to know where the paperwork was for the divorce order. Suddenly there was a rush to get the paperwork filed with the court so he could be served before skipping town. I took my ass down there first thing yesterday morning hoping to get it done before work. The line was insanely long even though it was 5 minutes to opening. As I was standing in line I started to feel an overwhelming rage at my ex-husband – as usual, I felt I was the one taking care of everything, making sure things got done. Why wasn’t he the one standing in line missing work when he was the one who had cheated? Not only once, mind you, or with one person, but with numerous people since nearly the beginning of the 12-year relationship
. Remembering this made me fume, and I think if he had walked in the door at the moment I was standing in that line I very well may have killed him.
It seems like such a trivial thing, yes, so what if I had to stand in line and miss work? I wasn’t expecting to even have any reaction – though I suppose my lack of emotion over the breakup was coming back to bite me in the ass. Once the dust had settled after he moved out I moved on fairly quickly. I know he didn’t understand that and as a result it caused him great anger when he found out that I was sleeping with Mr. Spice so soon after the separation.
Aside: Nobody told him. He used his key to get into the apartment when dropping the dogs off after one of his weekends (yes, he had weekends with the dogs, just like kids), and I wasn’t home yet. Instead of dropping the dogs off and leaving he started snooping and ended up in the bedroom, on my iPad, and saw a picture of Mr. Spice in full undress.
Clearly I haven’t fully processed the whole separation thing for me to get that irrationally angry over being a few minutes late to work and I’m sure I’ll have more moments as the process unfolds. At least now I know to expect it still.
Since I’ve started having sex…as an adult….I have not gone for longer than a month without having sex.
It was only 2 weeks between partners though – the month-long dry period was due more to a recurrent yeast infection that actually became painful. TMI? Sorry.
I digress. A and I have talked a few times about the fact that he’s going home for a few months. I’m not going to lie….it’s going to suck. I like sex, a lot, and I like sex even more with him. I am promising myself that if we decide to keep this relationship closed that I will be good and I will also keep my legs closed.
I don’t doubt my ability to be faithful and I don’t care if he isn’t. I have already explained to him that I don’t necessarily expect a man to never have sex with another woman because things happen – it gets hurtful and complicated when there is another relationship involved – that’s a whole other ballgame.
Sometimes I think I must be crazy, honestly, to even be considering this relationship. I just really like him. A lot. He makes my legs weak. And his body is perfect – it’s muscular and manly but still soft. Below the belt is just as beautiful. And he always smells amazing. I am in complete lust with this man.