Door Slammers.

"I want you to stay..."


So apparently, I'm a door slammer. It's not what you think, though. Ironically, it's not me slamming the doors, as one would expect.

A few weeks ago, I turned on the TV because I needed background noise as I primped in preparation to see a few of my friends at a comedy show. I wasn't in the mood to hear any particular artist or song, so I flipped to a random station and returned to staring at myself in the mirror, focusing on this one particular curl in the front that still hasn't recovered from years of heat damage. While my attention was on my hair, my focus shifted as a relationship specialist took the stage and began talking to a young woman who was heartbroken after her boyfriend left her to be with another man.

"There were a few signs that I ignored, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt a lot. I didn't want to think that he just might be...gay. But we fought all the time, and we broke up repeatedly. It was almost like he was pushing me away with his actions and with every argument, but I couldn't leave. I refused to leave. It wasn't until he said he needed to talk to me and I planned a romantic dinner for what I thought would be the night of our engagement that he said, 'I met someone. And I want to continue seeing them. It's a man. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving you.' I was broken hearted, and still am."

The relationship expert told her that she's a door slammer. In spite of the issues in her relationship--the constant fighting, him pushing her away, the repetitive breakups, and his suspect actions--she had an image of what their relationship should be, and she held on to that. She wasn't letting that go. It wasn't until HE slammed that door in her face that she was forced to let go of the perfect relationship she wanted and face the fact that her actual relationship was imperfect and over.

This segment of the show felt almost invasive; it was a mirror of my own life. No, my ex didn't leave me for another man (at least I don't think), but his sexuality was repeatedly the topic of discussion amongst my friends, family, and even within my own mind. I defended him while we were together, but I see it even more now that we aren't an item. Some signs I ignored, and some I couldn't, but I wanted so badly for this particular long-distance relationship to be a successful one. I pretended many of the red flags weren't raised, and I fought to keep my man. But we fought constantly, just like the woman on the show did with her boyfriend. We held discussions about the future of our relationship, and doubted its strength to thrive in these conditions. With every argument, I felt like I was being pushed away, but I'd be damned if I was the one to let go. I had an image of a perfect long-distance relationship embedded in my mind, and regardless of the tears, fights, and sleepless nights, I was gonna make that happen. We took turns hurting each other, but for a moment (I think) we both believed that the pain wasn't enough to demolish what we'd built. It was almost like I was delusional. We were delusional. Soon, the doors began slamming in my face. After another night of coming second to a female friend that held no regard for our relationship, I decided to let go. I couldn't believe that he, an insecure man, disrespected my insecurities and reservations after I'd pacified his.

Door slammed.

At one point in our conversation, he boasted about being dishonest. "Yeah, I've been dishonest about a lot. I can't remember everything, but I don't tell you the truth about a lot of things."

Another door slammed.

After asking him not to go out with this female friend because of her disrespectful nature, he chose to anyway, disregarding the pain I'd feel only a few hours after our breakup.

Yet another door slammed.

I later accepted that yes, he is an insecure man, and the reassurance he gets from superficial friendships and "yes" men keeps him going. That helped me let go. I let go of the image of the perfect relationship I had plastered across my mind. I let go of the image of the perfect man I'd hoped he'd become. I let go of the image of a perfect me that would be the perfect fit for the perfect him. It helped me finally slam a door on my end.

The most important door.

I didn't see this segment until months after all doors were slammed, but the resemblance to my dear friend's situation was so uncanny that I had to share it with her.

"Apparently, I'm a door slammer."
"Whose doors you be slammin'?" she responded.

Naturally, she was confused, but I took a minute to explain. She simply responded, "Wow."

She's never been one of too many words, so I didn't expect a grand response, but she later confessed, "I think I'm a door slammer, too."

She was in a similar situation; the image of what she wanted her relationship to be was her greatest stronghold. It's not a thing of desperation, I believe. People plan things everyday. We have expectations of how our day should pan out, which is why we often say, "I'm having a bad day." We hold so tight to our expectations that when anything goes wrong, we're crushed, aggravated, angry, sad, and so on. So naturally, when it comes to matters of the heart, we're holding on even tighter to those expectations. Just as we wake up each morning with the same expectation of that perfect day, we wake up each morning hoping that this day will be the one that the perfect relationship begins to come to fruition. We remain hopeful.

My friend and I had been hopeful for far too long, and thankfully, our admittance to each other helped us remained strong as we slammed the doors.

They're still closed.

Bedmates.

I’d fall asleep in your embrace, blissfully smothered by the smell of your deodorant. I drifted away as I dreamt, and with one early morning glimpse from across the mattress, you’d pull me into your arms again.

203.74 miles.

…just to be bedmates in the full-size mattress that lay lonely on the floor with hardly enough back support for the back pains I ignore. The sheets, though scarce, were not needed. We were bedmates.

That bed has become foreign, and I found a new mate in the roll of tissue I’ve stolen from the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning. I’ll return it before everyone wakes. Together, we lay in my Brooklyn bed, and I smother him with the makeup I’ve been too complacent to remove lately. I sit him on the nightstand as I dream, stealing just enough to lay on my pillow and catch the tears that fall in my sleep. And before the sun comes up, I pull him close for one last embrace before returning him to his bathroom post. I hate these memories of being your bedmate.

Months later, I lay in my bed, sniffling uncontrollably as I wipe water from my eyes. I keep reminiscing. I don’t miss the days of being your bedmate, though the memories are so vivid. Once again, I’m forced to steal the tissue and make it my bedmate. But finally, the tissue I’m stealing isn’t wiping up tears from you.

I hope this cold goes away soon.

Let's kiss while standing on opposite sides of the State Line until we trick ourselves into believing a long distance thing could work.

The Pursuit of Happiness.

O. Chambers once said, "If through a broken heart God can bring his purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart." This really resonated with me, because if I'd never turned to God before, I turned to Him when I had a broken heart. My last breakup was probably one of the toughest. It had been a long time coming, and you'd think that knowing it'd end ugly would prompt me to admonish my heart and prepare for the worst, but nope. Once the relationship ended, I quickly needed peace of mind. There's a saying that's plastered across Instagram that says something like, "The amount of pain you experience after a breakup is directly proportionate to the amount of energy you put into the relationship." How true is that? Without a doubt, the reason why my relationship ending was so painful was because I'd spent so much energy trying to salvage it when I felt it crumbling at my fingertips. There was no reason why we should've been together, yet there we were, going through the motions and calling it "love." That wasn't love. But thankfully, having exhausted all possibilities and being spent in every way imaginable, I had no choice but to go to church and pray for peace of mind. And I got it. So much so, that when he called and asked to "talk," I respectfully declined. I valued my happiness after spending night after night in a depressive state. Reflecting on where I am now, my heightened sense of self-worth, and my inexplicable joy, I can only thank God for yanking me from my situation and forcing me to seek Him for happiness. And that doesn't always come only after you've spent hours in the church, praying for a mighty move of...something grand. See, my problem was that I put God-like expectations on a flawed man and was heartbroken when he didn't measure up. I looked to him for happiness, and I didn't get it. But I turned to God, and instead of sending resounding trumpets and an overflow of joy, He sends a downpour of things that he knows makes my heart smile. My happiness comes in the form of LOLCats and Puffy Cheetos and red wine. It comes in the form of breathtaking sunsets, trains that come right on time, short lines at Starbucks, and a Tuesday night lineup of my favorite shows. My happiness is 2 hours of "Friends" every night on Nickelodeon, and art galleries that carry my favorite paintings. Oh, and best of all, my friends.

For whatever reason, I didn't think certain friends wanted to be bothered with me. I'm a venter. I vent about my problems until I get them out of my system and have nothing more to say. If I could buy a mannequin that I can tell a million times the same problem, I would. As much as I need to talk instead of internalizing my issues until they disappear, I do sometimes feel bad that my friends' GChat windows are filled with me spilling my problems even if I don't require helpful feedback. And sometimes, I do text, "I need some encouraging words" and hope that they have something that will bring me off the ledge. While I have certain friends who hear my troubles as they come, there are a few that I don't want to burden with the things that make me upset. Ciera was one of those people.

Ciera and I got extremely close when she came back from her 18-month deployment in Afghanistan. She was away, and during her time gone I had befriended her core group of girls. Using each other's personal stories as material for our creative writing classes, Ciera and I quickly bonded as we spent most nights in Starbucks with our laptops and our lattes. We were writers, and she got me. Even in our being close, I was hesitant to divulge all of my private information in an effort to not scare her off or burden her. One day, though, I went against my "rule" and told her that my then boyfriend cheated, and I left him. She and I met in Starbucks, and after asking about my weekend, I broke the news.

"We broke up. He cheated on me. Twice, apparently. I cried a bit, but I think it's out of my system. I'll be okay." 

Tears flowed from Ciera's eyes. "I can't believe he did that to you. You're such a good girl and you don't deserve that. I feel silly for getting emotional, but you've done so much for him, and I know you have your flaws, but you didn't deserve that."

I suddenly felt silly for thinking I couldn't talk to her about my problems. It wasn't until I became completely vulnerable and  emotionally exhausted that I turned to her for an encouraging word and receive more than I could've asked for. This receptiveness carried on even after we graduated and I moved to NYC.

Nine months after ending that relationship, I found myself becoming emotionally invested in the friend who actually gave me valuable advice to help me get through that breakup on the day our relationship ended. We started out as great friends, and as our conversation grew, so did our affinity for each other. For months, he was with a girl who he complained about daily, and pretty soon, he began professing his love for me and even spent hours on the phone discussing how life would be when he'd finally leave her and we'd be together. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I'd accepted a relationship like this. But I did, and our demise left me just as hurt and confused as I was throughout the duration of our "friendship." Things escalated, and he did eventually leave his girlfriend, but after just a month of it being "us," he decided that he wanted to live the single life, in spite of the dreams he fed me. Naturally, I was crushed. I went home and talked to my family about it, and they had little sympathy. It started out shady, and of course the ending was a reflection of how we began. As much as I hated him, I had only myself to blame.

I needed to find happiness, and quick. Being around my family was amazing as usual, but I needed more. Luckily, Ciera saw fit to see me before I went back to NYC.

"What time does your flight leave? I really wanna see you before you go." She was in town for drill, and could escape just long enough to have a catch-up sesh. She had no idea I was hurting, but her fervency in meeting up with me broke me down emotionally, and I knew I'd be venting once more before heading home to New York. I told her that I had a late flight, but it didn't matter. I arrived at the airport 2 hours before my flight, and as soon as I pulled up in the departure lane, there she was, sitting in front of the airport, dressed in her full army uniform, and ready to talk. I told her everything, even the parts I was ashamed of. I was completely candid, as I know she expected of me. Spilling the darkest parts of my life to her, she gave nothing but love, support, and understanding in return. We sat for an hour, confessing, giving advice, asking questions, and seeking answers. Because of my poor decisions, I was drained emotionally, and backed up against a wall. It was all my fault. I didn't deserve to be happy, but for that moment, in front of that Richmond airport, God sent me happiness in the form of a friend.

The Ultimate Sacrifice.

How much do you sacrifice for love? At what point does it shift from sacrifice to settling? Have people become so selfish that they've failed to really appreciate when someone has sacrificed for the sake of their relationship?

As I find myself embarking on more long-distance relationships than "same-city" relationships, I realize that there's something else that trails closely behind honesty, loyalty, respect, and trust. Sacrifice. Merriam-Webster defines sacrifice as "destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else." I see it as relinquishing power for the good of something more important. In relationships, you're no longer living life just for you; if you invite someone to share your life with you, you must do what's necessary to make the merge a successful one. But how much do you sacrifice for another? How do you know if you're settling for the sake of a relationship?

What I love most about the company I keep in New York is that each person is a NYC transplant. We've all moved here for our careers, and making friends along the way has been the cherry on top of the sundae that is our budding professional lives. One of my girlfriends moved to New York a little before I did in January 2011. She had never before been in a relationship, and lucky her, she found her guy shortly after moving here. He's perfect for her, and together, they're disgustingly cute. A few months after dating, they moved into an adorable apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and about a year later, her boyfriend got a job offer in her hometown, granting them a better quality of life than they have in NYC. Now, she had been getting homesick, and had plans of one day moving back to be closer to her family, but perhaps a year down the road. In spite of her original plan, she's picking up and moving...at the end of this month. We had a going away gathering for her this past weekend, and after we went through a few bottles of wine, she said at least three times, "I mean, I could've gone for another year here, but, y'know..." The gorgeous Minnesota apartments we helped her decide on suddenly took a backseat to that statement.

Maybe it's because I'm no stranger to long-distance relationships, but I would've entertained the idea of maybe another year (or at least 6 months) in NYC before joining my beau. Is that wrong? Granted, she and her love have discussed marriage, kids, the whole nine, but that's further down the road. She technically has time to live the life she wants before embarking on a new life with her man. In this case, is she settling, or simply sacrificing for the sake of her relationship?

When I think about the appreciation of your mate sacrificing, I can't help but recall my last relationship. In the beginning stages of a somewhat budding romance, my company downsized and I got laid off from my position as the editor of a digital marketing agency. Thankfully, freelance editing through my own company was enough to keep money in my pockets. In addition to that, I've been blessed with a successful mother who owns her own medical practice. I proposed the idea of being hired as her social media director, and I used the skills I attained while employed full-time and developed a web presence for her business. What I love most about my work, other than seeing the fruits of my labor, is the flexibility that freelancing provides. Naturally, I was ecstatic to have the freedom to travel to and from DC to be with my man. It was perfect.

Things didn't always go as planned, though. I seemed to be the only one excited about this newfound freedom. Any weekend we spent together, there was an 80% chance that I suggested it. Our relationship had a rocky start, so I was in no rush to pursue full-time work until I was able to strengthen our bond with as much time together as we needed. My life was a dream; I was working in my desired field, made enough money to enjoy NYC, and had all the freedom in the world to travel whenever I wanted. Why didn't he care as much as I thought he would? Had the tables been reversed, I would've invited him to NYC as much as possible. Many couples fail because of the lack of trust due to constant distance. Because of previous problems, he didn't trust me, yet didn't want me close. I'll still never understand it.

When we broke up, I told him that I put off pursuing full-time work so that we can work on our relationship. That's partly true. I have no desire to work a 9-5, but who doesn't want a little extra money and a little extra experience? I will one day pursue full-time work, but only when I'm ready to sacrifice freedom for slavery (and gain invaluable experience, of course). My guy then said, "You never told told me that, and if you did I would've told you not to. I'm working on my own thing right now." My heart was crushed. If you're not ready to make a relationship work, why entertain it? Distance takes work, and I put forth the effort while he made counterefforts to push me away. In his eyes, I sacrificed my 9-5 life when it was unnecessary. Was he unappreciative of my sacrifices, or did I make hasty sacrifices by doing what I thought was necessary for a successful relationship?

In the end, everyone's idea of sacrifice varies. Maybe distance isn't an option for my friend, so she must sacrifice and make the move. Maybe my ex's idea of sacrifice was staying in a relationship with someone he didn't trust, not me skipping out on full-time work to be with him. Whatever the case, I appreciate the concept of doing what it takes to make a relationship work, and we can only be so lucky to find someone who values that concept as much as we do.

Worlds Colliding.

Since before I can remember, I've had the desire to feel included. Today, the thought of 9 year-old me being left out makes me cringe; I can remember so vividly how much I hated it. I would go places I didn't really want to go just so I wouldn't miss out on the memories that were made. When my mother would spend hours after church talking about God knows what with seemingly every single member, I wasn't the type of child to tug at her skirt, begging to go home. No, I was the girl in my signature half up/half down hair style dirtying up my church clothes, reenacting TV competition shows, and running through the church's graveyard with my best friend, Tiona. After Children's Church dismissed, we wouldn't even find our mothers; we'd get involved in some kind of activity that prompted us to act more grown than we actually were. One evening, we sat in the church parking lot discussing the dreaded, inevitable "first kiss" and practiced our mastery of it on the inside of our fists. The majority of memories I made as a child took place in church, and no matter how old Tiona and I get, those memories are as fresh as the day they were made.

But of course, time passed, and I was introduced to more and more wonderful souls. In high school, my dance team and I saran wrapped our crush's car during a football game. We wrapped the entire car and put peanut butter under the door handles. My ability to be wise and mature beyond my years is something I'm most proud of. After transferring to JMU, I remember strolling into Business Law, exuding a psuedo-confidence as I took a seat in the "black corner." Just when I thought it'd be difficult to win over these people who had clearly established bonds that didn't include me, a meek, light-skinned girl named Victoria swiveled her chair around and asked quietly, "What's your name?" I'll never forget pretending to be wide awake the day her phone call interrupted my nap as she invited me to lunch.

Shortly after, I met two more girls, and we all moved in together. We spent nights quoting lines like, "I wanna do hoodrat stuff wif my frans," and following suit. Victoria was the most responsible out of the group, so when she was sleep, we'd do things we knew she wouldn't approve of. One boring JMU night, we lit a slug on fire. Another night, we realized we were 20 and had never smoked before, so we snuck to Wal-Mart and bought what we believed to be the classiest cigarettes they had available (Virginia Slims are classy, right? Turns out, they're all gross.). We smoked one each before hiding them forever in my bottom drawer.

The list of memories is endless, and as I neared graduation in 2010, they just piled on. I met SO many amazing men and women that have left an impact, and while I've gone through a few phases in my young adult life--both honorable and not-so-honorable--I ultimately made it out of undergrad a better woman. I have God and these people to thank for that.

As I've stated before, I moved to NYC with no friends, only family. I maintained a 365 blog based on my adventures with my cousin, Malikkah, but for the first few months here, the feeling of being surrounded by the love of friends was becoming foreign. After driving almost 400 miles to JMU,  I sat on my friend Ciera's couch and broke down about how lonely I'd gotten. I made a transition from being constantly surrounded by people I love to feeling alone in the biggest city in the country. Ciera held me in her arms as I bawled. I wasn't happy, although my blog stated otherwise. I could only continue to put up a front until reality matched my daily posts.

I eventually met Michelle, someone who was something like a godsend. We had the same quirky sense of humor, were both new to the city, and had only one thing on our minds--falling in love with NYC and all its splendor. Exploring on a budget, we spent late nights at Blockheads, filling up on that good cheap tequila, and drunkenly wandering through the city, snapping pictures along the way. Although she was just one person, I had met many others through her, and my eagerness to get out and enjoy the city actually led me to connect with other old friends I had no idea moved here. I wasn't lonely anymore. I had my own real life in NYC, and I was so content. I still am.

Exchanging stories about friends back home was hardly enough; I wanted her to put faces and personalities to the stories! She'd never understand why Victoria's jokes are so funny; it's not necessarily the joke she tells, it's the fact that quiet little Delicate breaks the silence to talk about how much she hates sub-par penis. Hearing about Tiona's ability to drink like a fish is hardly enough; Michelle needs to see her in action. The girl doesn't even flinch when taking shots. It's impressive. I wanted Michelle to see all of this, so...I blended my worlds.

Have you ever been in a relationship where your signif seems to have a completely separate life? They mention names you've never heard of, frequent places they've never taken you, and make memories without even filling you in on a the great time they had. It's tough! You want nothing more than to feel included, but unfortunately, the blending of worlds is a foreign concept to some. It's even harder when you're in a long distance relationship. Not only are you not near physically, but there's a rift that seems to grow deeper as you feel like you're not a vital part of their life. You begin to feel things like, why don't they want me to meet their friends? Am I not fun enough? Are there secrets I'd find out upon meeting some of these friends? The list is endless. No matter how old we are, the desire to feel included is one that never leaves. I'll admit that now, as a freelancer, I enjoy having my alone time. I get to know myself better and fall in love with Janna more and more. But just as I have the desire to feel included, I know that as a long distance lover to my friends in other states, I must include them in my separate life. I never want them to feel as if I've forgotten how kickass they are as friends and started a new life that doesn't include them. I never wanted Michelle to feel like she can't measure up to the friends I rave about every chance I get. I'm in love with my friends, so, it was only fitting that they meet.

Whenever she's able to escape from her job, I pack up Michelle in my suitcase and bring her along for a road trip, making sure to stop at the first Chick Fil-A we see. Whether we're staying in DC, Northern VA, Richmond, or Harrisonburg, my family and friends embrace her as if they've known her for years. And their friends do the same with me.

I'll never believe that every single person in my life needs to meet and become friends, because that's the beauty in having diverse circles. Every group of friends serves a unique and vital purpose, and they don't and shouldn't always overlap. I am, however, a firm believer that when you love someone as much as I love my girls, and you meet someone who is equally awesome, why not allow your worlds to collide? Relationships, friendships. In so many ways, it's all the same.

Going the Distance.

     Perhaps the most difficult part of a long-distance relationship is the fear that once the distance has been added, you and your love may drift apart. Sure, things are a bit easier to maintain when distance has always been an obstacle that you've learned to conquer time and time again, but what happens when you spend nearly every day together and suddenly, it stops?

     2 out of the 3 long distance relationships I've had evolved out of a friendship that started while I was visiting their city. After much nurturing, it only felt natural to take things to the next level. We walked into the relationship aware of the bumpy road that comes with long-distance, yet confident that the bond of our friendship rendered us more than prepared. And we were. I vividly remember learning the quickest routes to my man's home from both my parents' house and James Madison, and I kept my apartment door unlocked whenever I knew he was on the highway, on his way to me. Whenever we both had a free weekend, you could bet that we were road tripping, taking turns visiting each other's friends and family in various cities. We went the distance together, playing "passenger-must-get-drunk-and-be-the-DJ" every step of the way. From the outside looking in, we were perfect. And for a while, we were. Before it all turned sour, it was the most exciting, spontaneous relationship I've ever been a part of. That still holds true to this day. The sex, the road trips, the random social gatherings...everything, were all so unpredictable; no two experiences were the same, and that's what keeps a relationship exciting. A girl can only be so lucky to embark on a relationship of this magnitude and be able to keep it for life.

     Even still, with all the spontaneity, something was missing. Yes, the fun was there, the adoration was there, and the passion and affection were there, but we still didn't have enough to last. If you were to ask me a year ago, hell, even months ago, I'd say it was because of infidelity. And while that may be a large part of the reason why we ended, a larger underlying issue stifled our growth. In a long-distance anything, there must be reassurance that no matter how much distance is between you two, the importance of their role in your life is unwavering. No one wants to feel disposable, and we often underestimate the amount of effort it takes in order to make sure they know they aren't. His infidelity in spite of warnings that we'd be done if he cheated let me know one of two things: 1. I was either not enough to turn him into a faithful man, or 2. I was disposable; he didn't mind taking the risk of losing me from his life. Whatever the case, the notion that I wasn't worth fidelity was what helped me walk away without thought of a second chance.

     The same goes with friendships.

     Calling someone my "friend" is hardly enough. Living at least 250 miles away from most of my friends, there's a mutual effort that needs to be exerted in order for our friendship to thrive, and it warms my heart to know that we're pretty kickass when it comes to this.

     My priority when I moved to NYC wasn't to live a lavish life and become a professional socialite, ready to give any and everyone who visited a mind-blowing experience with my breadth of knowledge on NYC hotspots. When I moved here on January 15, 2011, my only concern was expanding my network. I had no clue what I wanted to do as a career, so I dedicated my time to meeting as many people as possible and becoming somewhat of a professional networker until I found my passion. When my 24th birthday rolled around, I was excited to share NYC with my favorite people. I had 16 confirmed guests, and it warmed my heart to know that after Hurricane Irene ruined my plans last year, I'd be spending this birthday with those that meant the most to me. After a rough night of fighting with my then significant other, nothing made me happier than traveling to midtown Manhattan to greet people who made breathing that much easier.

     We all checked into our hotel rooms, danced and laughed over cocktails, and roamed Union Square and the Lower East Side for birthday fun. I couldn't believe that nearly everyone I loved--from childhood, to college, and beyond--had traveled the distance just to see me happy on my birthday.

     It was better than any card. Better than gifts. Dare I say it? It was better than money. These women and men who I text, GChat, email, and update on life regularly saw fit to be by my side and heal a heart they didn't even know was hurting. I suddenly forgot about the fight from the night before. The tears and sadness disappeared. To them, the term "friend" wasn't enough, and they showed me how indispensable I am to them. Looking back, I realize that those 16 people all left the same state to come and be with me without once suggesting that little ol' me travel to them. Sure, it would've been a lot easier, but that's not always what it's about.

     With long-distance, you just have to do what it takes to show them that they really are important to you. You do what it takes to show that their companionship isn't disposable. In that past relationship, what I needed was fidelity. And while that'll always be a need, my new lovers have shown me something new. Nothing says "I love you" like going the distance to be by their side when they need you the most--and even when they don't.

                                              

Inception.

    

    I got the idea to start this blog during a conversation with my farthest long-distance lover, Mariel. After making endless memories in college, Mariel packed her things and moved to San Diego for grad school at San Diego State University. Although I never kept my plans to visit her during her time in school, I made it a priority to keep in touch, mainly through texting and group emails with my girls. She understood that I was settling into my life in NYC, so it wasn't easy to pick up and take a trip to the west coast. We had this kind of understanding that no matter how long it's been since we've last spoken, nothing can change our goofy, inappropriate friendship. I did make it to San Diego for her graduation, though, and it was like we never skipped a beat. Inappropriate sex jokes, embarrassing stories, the whole nine. It was good for my soul.

But about the idea for this blog...right. 

     I took a trip to Virginia for another one of my long-distance lovers' birthday during a time when I needed it the most. My guy and I had just split, and I was completely heartbroken and angry that I'd wasted my time on someone who dedicated more of his time to hurting me than actually making the relationship work. I was hurt and confused, and while my perfect attendance at church and reading of books was helping, I needed to vent to my girls from college. I dreaded telling them, because the last time they saw us, we were putting on a smile and pretending that our relationship hadn't reached its expiration date. The front did bring about genuine feelings, and for the first time, I felt that I might be in love and I should probably profess those feelings in an effort to salvage what little was left. To my surprise, he claimed to feel the same, and we made love for what would be our first and last time. But the front we put up simply wasn't enough, and it was time to fight through the ill feelings and answer my girls' question of, "So what's new?!" with, "We broke up."

     Like every long-distance lover should be, my girlfriends were super supportive, validating my feelings and revealing truths about my relationship that I'd been too blind to see before the breakup. Even with clarity and confirmation that walking away for good was the right decision, my heart was still broken. 

     Before heading back to NYC, I spent alone time with Mariel for the first time since college and we got to talking about past relationships and heartbreak. She wasn't a stranger to what I'd been feeling, and she let me pick her brain as she became transparent, telling me how she managed to get through it. Even still, my mind was cloudy. "Why don't you write again?" she suggested.

(Now I'll admit: I used to love blogging, but somewhere along the line I gave it up. I found that it's harder for me to gain inspiration when I'm completely happy with life, so I ditched my blog. I'd thought once or twice about picking it up, but had no idea where to begin again. Mariel suggesting it was something like confirmation.)

"Why don't you blog again?" 

"Eh, I don't want to sit and talk about heartbreak...I want to write something else." 

"It doesn't have to be about your heartbreak. It can be about your friends. OMGALOVESTORYABOUTYOURFRIENDS!" she squealed in true Mariel fashion.

     A love story about my friends? How genius! I'll admit that I haven't had much success with relationships in the past, but something I have been great at is maintaining the friendships with those that mean the most to me. 

     I moved to NYC with no friends, only family, so preserving the friendships I'd built back home was a priority. Email chains, group texts, 3-way calling (yes, we still do that), and Skype dates became my best friends, and because they all live in the DC area I forced myself to rotate homes as I try to visit as many friends as possible. My goal was to make sure my friends knew how much I cherished their friendship, so every chance I got, I was riding up and down I-95. I did what it takes to make a long-distance relationship work, even in the midst of trying to maintain my own crumbling long-distance relationship with a male. 

     I wasn't always perfect in my attempts, but the true friends understood how difficult it gets. Since moving, I've only "lost" one friend, though I can't really consider it a loss. Her friendship closely resembled that of another toxic friendship I'd cut off just months before meeting her. Those close to me knew it, and the friends who have my best interest at heart could detect that this girl didn't. That's my biggest flaw; I tend to be a poor judge of character. But I'd consider this one as more of a gain than a loss. 

     So as I begin this blog, questions loom in my mind. What makes a long-distance anything work? I've never thought about it before, but as I pride myself on almost 2 years in a different city than most of my friends with stronger bonds than ever, I must reflect on what it's taken from both ends of these friendships. With that said, I'd be remiss if I neglected to acknowledge that failed friendships help you understand what it takes, too. So although you shouldn't expect a numbered list through this blog, I will say that this is the big kahuna, the cardinal rule of long-distance lovin':

     Don't even bother trying to preserve it if the person no longer serves a purpose in your life. You'll spend so much time trying to force it and you'll end up exhausted and fed up. Only maintain long-distance relationships with those who have proven to be worth the effort. Not many are.

I just got lucky.

Preservation in the Midst of Disposal.

     I love hard. Anyone who knows me well enough to know that my go-to hangover food is a bag of puffy Cheetohs can tell you that I love hard. The minute I feel comfortable, I become an open book and give my all. And no, it’s not just with relationships.  My best friend has witnessed me become pseudo-BFFs with all kinds of girls throughout different stages of my life, and although she warns me against many, the excitement of new friendships with seemingly wonderful people gives me something like a high. In this book I’m currently reading, Captivating, I read that women thirst for a type of love and companionship that neither a husband nor children can provide. Women need friendships with other women, and as much as we’d like to pretend that this is a fallacy, it’s true. So I’ve wandered through life, embracing friendships, a few of which have been toxic. And like all toxic relationships, the end is inevitable. I always sit and beat myself up about ending a friendship, forgetting what both the Bible and my mother tell me constantly: Everything has its season. But still I fight, believing that I’ve done myself a disservice by ending something that was so unedifying and draining. How silly of me? But because women are wired to desire companionship, and need that companionship from other women, I begin to feel as if I’m missing out on a really good friend. I begin to feel like I’m missing out on a good friend, although I know from experience that they aren’t. What a cruel little trick my mind plays on me?

     I’ve lived in New York City for a year and 9 months, and with all of the transitioning, the “good” friends I’ve been in search of while swapping people in and out of my life have been the one constant, even when a boyfriend hasn’t. Quite frankly, dating creeps me out. You go out, get approached by a random guy, exchange numbers, and begin conversations that I can only assume consist of false proclamations about occupations and their alma mater. You have absolutely no one to vouch for them, so you just trust that he’s honestly in med school and not a sociopath who’ll be slipping a date-rape drug in the ginger ale you ordered at dinner because you didn’t want him to see you drunk just yet. Needless to say, I’d just rather not be bothered by it at this point in my life. And looking at my previous relationships, there’s clearly a trend that I follow when it comes to men, and I must figure out how to break it before I pursue another relationship. But this isn’t about my relationships with questionable men; it’s about long distance relationships. I’m able to debunk the idea that they don’t work. I believe it’s all about whom you enter into these relationships with. Now I’ll admit, I’ve been in 3 unsuccessful long distance relationships with men, and even still, I’m a believer that they can work. Why? Well mainly because although I’ve relinquished the idea of entertaining anything long-distance with a man, I have been able to maintain strong, fulfilling, fruitful long-distance relationships…with the women in my life.