I'm Alemap, I'm in Canberra, Australia, and I'm in love with a man I've been dating for a few months - we met when he was just here for a brief holiday, our connection was instant and electric (I used to scoff when people talked about getting hit with a thunderbolt; I don't, anymore), the love followed scarily quickly therafter and was more intense than any either of us had felt for anyone else, before, despite both having had multiple serious love relationships previously, and he decided to stay - who is originally from Alabama, though he has lived the last few years first in Baton Rouge and then New Orleans, working in the Coast Guard and then as a radio DJ when his term ended. He will next week return to the States, because despite his best efforts he hasn't been able to find enough work to support him, here, and now all his money is gone, so he just can't afford to stay any longer, and he will be entering the airforce, because the rate of pay to living expenses will afford him the best circumstances to save money for when he returns here to live. Unfortunately, as the minimum term of service is four years, it'll be that long before he can migrate.
We have discussed the logistics of visiting each other, and worked out we should be able to afford to do it at least twice a year, and we'll keep in close contact with chat, packages, letters, phonecalls, texts and Skype in the meantime, but we both always told ourselves we'd never get involved in an LDR, because they so rarely work out, and we're nervous. Even with twice-yearly visits, and all the contact modern technology affords, four years is a very long time. The only reason we're trying at all is because in the short time we've known each other, we have both felt strongly that this may be it; the person for us, and we are both old enough and with enough experience of love and life that that intuition has been both more than a little frightening (mainly because we felt it within the first month, despite both have been very happily single and not looking for a relationship at all - in my case, actively running from intimacy - before meeting each other), and extremely powerful. We're both aware of the failure stats for such relationships, and keeping our expectations realistic; we agree that we can only do our best, and leave the rest in the hands of the Universe, trusting that whatever is meant to happen - whether that's our success or our failure - will.
The strange thing is that I'm almost excited about getting to send letters and gifts back and forth; the novelty of having a penpal again after about a decade and a half since I last had one is oddly attractive. Not even remotely enough to make up for his going away, of course, but it's a sort of silver lining that I'm hanging onto. We will be somewhere in the region of 15000 kilometres apart, and once he leaves, it will be six months before I see him again (I have promised to visit him for both our birthdays, in June). We have made the decision - highly controversial among the friends I've told and, it seems, quite unusual for people in our position - that monogamy would effectively mean celibacy, and celibacy would place an unnecessary additional pressure on us in an already-difficult situation, so even though we are both naturally monogamous people, we have agreed upon a "don't ask, don't tell" policy regarding any intimacies that may occur with other people, while we're apart. Though we are both clearly agreed on the fact that we will only be in a relationship with each other; if either of us starts wanting to seriously date someone else, then they will need to make a choice between our relationship and the potential new one - entering into a romance with someone else, we have agreed, would be infidelity under the terms we've defined. I know it's a risky call to relax the boundaries of a previously monogamous relationship to account for the distance, but we felt it was the right one for us, and we're both (much to our own surprise) completely at peace with the decision. Perhaps we simply trust each other enough that it doesn't matter, because our faith in each other isn't contingent upon monogamy, or perhaps we figure that if either of us is going to fall in love with someone else, then that was just as likely to happen otherwise, and we can't control that.
We know it may not work out. We know that, statistically, it most likely won't; few LDRs do. But we suspect that whatever it is that has happened here between us is very special, and may not happen again, so we have to fight for it. We can't just surrender our future together without even trying - the idea is bizarrely sickening.
My friends all say it's doomed to failure, and we're being stupid; they don't seem to get that we know it's a stupid idea, but it's the only option we have other than to just break up now - which simply isn't an option.
I'm aware it reads like an overblown drama - we met, fell truly, madly, deeply in love, and then circumstances wrenched us apart! - but please believe me when I say the epicness of the entire thing is a sufficient pain in the backside that we've lacked the indulgence for Romeo and Juliet style moments. We both find it tremendously inconvenient that we've fallen in such powerful love with each other, at a time when neither of us wanted to be even a little bit in love with anyone, least of all someone from the other side of the world! Inconvenient...but still wonderful, for all that. :-/
Why would the world put us in each other's paths, only to separate us so soon?
We don't know what's going to happen. We only know that we have to try.
Any wishes for good luck, or prayers, would be most welcome; we know we'll need them. And any tips or tricks to help us on the difficult path we've chosen would also be very much appreciated.
We have discussed the logistics of visiting each other, and worked out we should be able to afford to do it at least twice a year, and we'll keep in close contact with chat, packages, letters, phonecalls, texts and Skype in the meantime, but we both always told ourselves we'd never get involved in an LDR, because they so rarely work out, and we're nervous. Even with twice-yearly visits, and all the contact modern technology affords, four years is a very long time. The only reason we're trying at all is because in the short time we've known each other, we have both felt strongly that this may be it; the person for us, and we are both old enough and with enough experience of love and life that that intuition has been both more than a little frightening (mainly because we felt it within the first month, despite both have been very happily single and not looking for a relationship at all - in my case, actively running from intimacy - before meeting each other), and extremely powerful. We're both aware of the failure stats for such relationships, and keeping our expectations realistic; we agree that we can only do our best, and leave the rest in the hands of the Universe, trusting that whatever is meant to happen - whether that's our success or our failure - will.
The strange thing is that I'm almost excited about getting to send letters and gifts back and forth; the novelty of having a penpal again after about a decade and a half since I last had one is oddly attractive. Not even remotely enough to make up for his going away, of course, but it's a sort of silver lining that I'm hanging onto. We will be somewhere in the region of 15000 kilometres apart, and once he leaves, it will be six months before I see him again (I have promised to visit him for both our birthdays, in June). We have made the decision - highly controversial among the friends I've told and, it seems, quite unusual for people in our position - that monogamy would effectively mean celibacy, and celibacy would place an unnecessary additional pressure on us in an already-difficult situation, so even though we are both naturally monogamous people, we have agreed upon a "don't ask, don't tell" policy regarding any intimacies that may occur with other people, while we're apart. Though we are both clearly agreed on the fact that we will only be in a relationship with each other; if either of us starts wanting to seriously date someone else, then they will need to make a choice between our relationship and the potential new one - entering into a romance with someone else, we have agreed, would be infidelity under the terms we've defined. I know it's a risky call to relax the boundaries of a previously monogamous relationship to account for the distance, but we felt it was the right one for us, and we're both (much to our own surprise) completely at peace with the decision. Perhaps we simply trust each other enough that it doesn't matter, because our faith in each other isn't contingent upon monogamy, or perhaps we figure that if either of us is going to fall in love with someone else, then that was just as likely to happen otherwise, and we can't control that.
We know it may not work out. We know that, statistically, it most likely won't; few LDRs do. But we suspect that whatever it is that has happened here between us is very special, and may not happen again, so we have to fight for it. We can't just surrender our future together without even trying - the idea is bizarrely sickening.
My friends all say it's doomed to failure, and we're being stupid; they don't seem to get that we know it's a stupid idea, but it's the only option we have other than to just break up now - which simply isn't an option.
I'm aware it reads like an overblown drama - we met, fell truly, madly, deeply in love, and then circumstances wrenched us apart! - but please believe me when I say the epicness of the entire thing is a sufficient pain in the backside that we've lacked the indulgence for Romeo and Juliet style moments. We both find it tremendously inconvenient that we've fallen in such powerful love with each other, at a time when neither of us wanted to be even a little bit in love with anyone, least of all someone from the other side of the world! Inconvenient...but still wonderful, for all that. :-/
Why would the world put us in each other's paths, only to separate us so soon?
We don't know what's going to happen. We only know that we have to try.
Any wishes for good luck, or prayers, would be most welcome; we know we'll need them. And any tips or tricks to help us on the difficult path we've chosen would also be very much appreciated.
I love you soooo much
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