The Relationship Thread

[botley]

TL;DR version: my first big (four-and-a-half-year) relationship ended in July. We were long-distance off and on for two years before that, because of career commitments. Now she lives in England and we're still friends, but since the breakup I haven't seen her in person, nor been involved with anyone else.

We met as penniless idealistic university students, fucked like rabbits, and moved in together during our final year at school. After graduating, we both had a tough time finding our feet and setting out in the working world. During this time I spent a few weeks on my own backpacking in Europe for a sightseeing and music festival-going vacation. I had a great time, remained faithful, and missed her very much. I could tell that she wanted to go with me and was upset that she couldn't, and I would have brought her along if that were in any way financially feasible. But my job at the time sucked ass, and I really needed to clear my head and get myself together so I could move into the field I wanted to be in (theatre). It paid off, because soon after I came home to Toronto I landed a sweet internship that kept me out of the city for almost three months. Of course it was difficult for us to keep tabs on each other emotionally without being there in person, but I made an effort to commute back and forth as much as I could, given the infrequent public transportation available. There were lots of lonely nights and days, but again, I remained faithful and missed her terribly. We tried to make long phone calls a priority, but I was not great at opening up over the phone even at the best of times. When she finally came out there to visit me (rather than me commuting back home) towards the end of the internship, there was a definite distance between us that suddenly manifested itself as her getting upset again and scolding me. She said — in no uncertain terms — that if I in any way squandered this career opportunity, she would not forgive me for putting her through that much needless separation. Somehow, we got through that difficult patch, but when my big chance at a full-time gig came up the next year, with a regional summer stock theatre, I took off again.

We borrowed my uncle's car so I could bring my stuff out to the remote town where I'd be spending the next three months, which was even less accessible by reliable public transportation. We kissed goodbye and she drove back home. Towards the end of that summer, though I did keep visiting, our face-to-face time had become even rarer and it was clear that she was not making a return trip to visit me, which I thought I'd made clear was important if not absolutely essential to me. Instead, she called me up one night and told me of her plan to follow through on a longstanding dream to try finding a job in England. She has a dual citizenship, you see, and family there that she'd stay with. Maybe I could join her there after a few months. I was skeptical about this plan, given that it involved yet more time apart. In fact, I said outright that I couldn't envision how it'd be possible to make a relationship work with that much distance between us. She was upset again and said it wasn't fair that I got to have such an adventurous time on my own doing exciting things, that she needed this, that this is what she thought about all the time. Not for the first moment, I was considering breaking up with her right then and said so... but my options were limited. She said she wouldn't go if it meant I'd do that — and, well, I didn't want to deny her that which would make her happiest. I still loved her, after all, and despite how it might have appeared to anyone else I honestly thought I'd made every effort to keep the relationship going. I schlepped my stuff back home to Toronto on the twice-weekly bus, alone. I was in such a hurry to make it back to her that I left my only sex toy (a masturbation sleeve she'd bought me so I could keep my dick happy and still remain faithful) in the bedside drawer, where it remained until reappearing a year later to my absolute mortification.

When I got back, I wasn't exactly happy about the situation. With every step closer to her moving away, I was dreading the thought that we'd be separated for endless weeks and months. How would I make this work? There had to be a way. I figured I could save up enough money to move with her to England if I made the effort; if I moved back in with my parents to save money on rent, if I worked more, if I spent less, if I made sacrifices, if I applied for jobs from outside the country. We borrowed her mom's car, packed it with her stuff, kissed goodbye at the airport and I was genuinely excited to see her embarking on a new life. Eventually, I had enough scrimped together to make a short visit to see how she was doing (and — holy shit yeah — get laid again because I was still staying faithful this whole time... not that any of the masculine allure which comes with sleeping on a couch in my parents' spare room was exactly doing wonders for me). I was starting to have crushes on other girls and wondering what it would be like to cheat with them, though I kept Skyping and Whatsapp'ing with my beloved and reassuring her whenever she had problems with adjusting to life in England. We talked about how great it'd be if we both could get to work and live together again like it was in the old days. Secretly, though, I was starting to have grave doubts about this whole monogamy racket. My visit to England came and went, uneventfully, early this year. There were lots of nice moments, but somewhat less intimacy than I wanted (although I lied to her about that and said it was enough for me). I overspent my budget, even though I did significantly less sightseeing than on my previous solo Europe visit, aside from a few memorable day-trips (although I did get a chance to meet up with some online friends, whom I had missed the last time around).

I returned home, went on tour with a kick-ass musical theatre show, and started really adjusting to my life apart from her. My feelings of independence truly began to return when I sublet my friend's place for a few months, thus getting my ass off of my parents' couch. It felt like I was slowly climbing out of limbo. I eagerly took an offer to return to the same regional theatre festival where I'd worked the last year. It was actually even more fun staying there all summer without having to commute back to Toronto. She was getting some amazing job opportunities too, and is still having a blast in England. The conversations we had this summer were less and less about how we were feeling, and more about the exciting things we were doing that day. We were staying friendly but becoming less intimate. It was clear to me that that part of our relationship was all but over. I agonized about the right moment to make the break. Finally, I phoned her up in the greenroom on a day when I didn't have much work to do. I said I would always love her but that I couldn't be her boyfriend anymore. We were both incredibly sad, of course, but also relieved. There's a definite loss, which I carry with me, and yet I feel freer than I have in ages. Not being in a hurry to go through that whole roller-coaster again, I've not been able to let myself get close to another woman. And so, consequently, because I was faithful to her the whole time and still find myself adjusting to being single again, I haven't got my dick wet since the England trip. Is it that I'm slightly afraid of intimacy now? Yeah, probably.

Why do I spill all this to you now? Well, I suppose it's a cautionary tale. We both had lots of growing up to do, both together and apart, when we first hooked up. We weren't sure what we wanted out of life before we made a major commitment to share it with each other, and I think that was a mistake. If I had to do it again I wouldn't have let myself get so involved with someone without both of us being sure we had the same goals in mind. I knew for a long time that she loved England and wanted to move there someday, way before it became a firm plan, and until we broke up I couldn't face the fact that I was never really prepared to make the necessary amount of sacrifices in what I wanted in order to satisfy what she wanted. In that kind of scenario, if you've already spent enough time with that person to the point where they are indelibly part of your life for good, you will be grieving when it ends. Even if it ends relatively happily with no hard feelings and an amicable parting-of-ways. It still leaves a deep scar. I'm not comparing this to a broken marriage or anything like that, but I can now understand some of the heartbreak that must come with those situations.

Okay, I need some sleep now.