For the last three and some odd years, B and I have been long distance. We met at Princeton our freshman year and, after one date to a frat-tastic formal, he fell head-over-hells in love. Ok, not exactly, but it was our first date. I had no idea he like me, so I played an Oscar-worthy portrayal of "Hard to Get." Seriously, he walks me to my door to say goodnight and I wave and let the door slam as I head to bed. I didn't know! How was I suppose to?
He started calling me that summer at home but for a while I wasn't sure who it was (seriously, that clueless) and then, when I did know it was B, I figured, "Why's he calling me now? I'll see him in like three weeks?" Take notes ladies: we were serving up big old plates of Hard to Get, with a side of ditsy.
So sophomore year started and we "hung out," as college kids tend to do (God forbid anyone actually have a real date). Around fall break, I had a little break of my own and freaked out, telling B I didn't think we could date, that we weren't a good fit. The good guy that he is, B took my crazies in stride. Then, over Thanksgiving, after a heartfelt talk with K, I knew he was it. I had to date him and why, WHY had I told him we wouldn't work because let me tell you, nothing is more attractive than talking with the guy who wants to date you about all the reasons he shouldn't. Seriously, I've got great game.
The night I returned from Thanksgiving break, I promised I'd go see B and tell him that I was crazy and that we had to date. I even knew which outfit I'd change into as soon as I got to my dorm, but then, in the arrivals concourse of Newark airport, there he was. All his cute self with a little big and my bumbling, rumpled self flustered and definitely not wearing the previously-chosen outfit. He helped me get my stuff on the train and then talked for the full 45 minutes about his crazy Thanksgivings of the past. I still love hearing those stories, but they always remind me of just wanting to bust open right there and tell him I was so wrong and so crazy. Oh, ok. And to kiss him. (Can you blame me?)
He walked me to my dorm, then I asked him if I could come by his room later (you know, after I changed...obviously). He looked confused but said yes, so I sprinted inside, threw on my outfit (which, as I recall, was a white button down and jeans. Whaa?) and tore up to his room where I told him I was wrong (and crazy) and that whenever, if ever he was ready, I'd be there. Then he dropped the hammer. "I'm dating someone."
It's a small campus, so I knew this, but still. I told him, "I know. Just saying the ball's in your court." And, as if by stage direction, his new girl (grrrr..) walked into his room and I excused myself.
Long story short, we started dating after Christmas and became a couple that March. College flew by and then both of us went to Europe with our friends on separate trips. By the time I got back, B had been signed by the Mariners and would spend the next three years playing in Wisconsin, California, Arizona, and Seattle while I flew around trying to catch as much of the action as I could.
The point is, we know distance. Long-distance should be renamed for us, we've done it so much. We're the poster children for the post office, Pro-Flowers, and Verizon's In-Network. But now it's different. I never thought being engaged would make it harder to be away from him. If anything, I figured I'd feel this strong confidence, like the warranty had kicked in. But no. I mean confidence, yes, but I'm dying here! Get me to May 9! If I had an Easy Button, I'd install the "fast forward" upgrade (only not really, because I'm loving the planning).
I miss B, but not today, because I'll see him tonight for a much-awaited long weekend of doing nothing but watching Alabama football, seeing my nieces, and hanging out with some old friends from college. Thank you, holiday weekend!