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Or, “The soppiest post I’ll ever write” (I’m hoping it’s just the jet lag to be honest), or, “Thoughts about long distance & why I’m happy to wait until he’s home or I’m over there”

It’s hard. Really fucking hard. The intimacy that you both had, goes. The way you were both so naturally free & open with each other; not needing to make any declarations or huge displays of affection, because you could just look at each other & know it all. That goes. It goes because it’s impossible to maintain when you’re not together.

Communication becomes all about the words. The explicit, not the implicit. There are no glances, looks, breaths, sighs, mannerisms & gestures to be decoded & understood. If it’s not said, then it’s unknown. So yes, it’s hard.

But then.

Then you are together again. Albeit only briefly, but you’re together again. And that’s important. And brilliant. And glorious. And it’s also kind of hard too.

Because first comes the anticipation & the excitement. Then the nerves are added to the emotional cocktail shaker, before you’re whizzed across continents, mountain ranges & oceans, and all of a sudden you’re both there in the same room, looking at each other, not quite knowing exactly how to greet one another across the combination of the familiar and the strange that plonks itself down between you.

In films it’s all grand gestures and “sweep you up off the floor” embraces in airport arrivals halls or on the platforms of train stations. In reality it’s an odd kind of suspension between wanting to do all of those things & suddenly feeling a little shy. There’s just too much to cram into a “Hello you”.

You’re happy though. So happy to be with each other again, but still so far from the ease of just knowing, that you both used to be so naturally brilliant at. Like being on a first date with someone who knows everything about you and with whom you’ve spent months planning a first date… on Groundhog Day. Familiar yet edgy. Nervy.

It takes a day or two before you both relax & the guards begin to come down again. Because there are guards. Defences. Insecurities. But you’re both the same people that had cast those off for one another before and gradually you do it again.

It’s a bit like getting to know someone you’ve already known. Your lives have moved on & events have been & gone, adventures have been had, dramas have been endured and news of them shared with one another. But somebody pressed pause on this enormous part of your life for a while and now, together, you both have to bring it up to speed to match the rest of yourselves.

And you do. And, steadily, it gets easier as the hours & days & chats & embraces go by.

At first you’re too clingy. He’s too stand-offish. You’re insecure, a little needier than you’d like; trying to grab on to as much closeness as you think will tide you over until the next time you’re together. He’s distant, awkward, stuck behind a wall of isolation he’s built after a year of living in a foreign country. But gradually, you both mellow. You start to reset.

You might not get back to the way it all was in the time that you have together. After all you’re in somewhat of a false reality. And there’s only a finite amount of time before you’re apart again. But you back off, he warms up and together you remember why you both like the fact that there is a “together”.

He’s telling you a random story about a place you’ve never been to, with people you’ve never met (& aren’t ever likely to) and you watch the animated expressions on his face and smile as you remember how much you love the way his face lights up when he’s recounting an anecdote. You share your stories in return & watch him laugh at your latest calamity, and the two of you just kind of get to know each other again.

And there are the gestures. Like when he puts his hand behind your ear and takes up a handful of your hair while he kisses you, and the whole world melts away. Or when he holds you as tightly as he can while you both sleep. Getting as much closeness as time and jet lag will allow

And all of these things are what make it all worthwhile. The waiting, the distance, the random arguments about badly worded emails or mistimed jokes. The missing. All of it.

Yes, it can be painful & stressful & draining & all sorts of things you’d rather not test your relationship with. But it’s amazing how just a few days together reminds you why you decided to do this in the first place. Why you’ll keep doing it as long as you have to. Until he’s back where you are, or until you go to where he is.

Because even at only part-way to a reset of “us”, he’s still the first person you’d choose to share your time with. Every time. And you know that sooner or later, the portion of your time that is spent with him will be greater. And it’ll be great. And for now, knowing that is enough. For now.