This morning I could hear Chris and Teresa get up together, and make their way to the kitchen. They made breakfast together, and were just sitting down to eat when I headed out to the gym.

It makes me smile and have a little mental rejoice on their behalf that they get to do those thing now. Drink wine on the couch, make dinner, go to IKEA and struggle with assembly required. Their anniversary is coming up soon – one year – and the amount of time they’ve been physically together in that time can be measured in weeks. (And now they’re getting married…) Been there. Been worse than there. (Farther from there?)

It’s easier to appreciate the amazingness of just your loved one’s presence when you’ve spent so much time apart, let alone being able to have sex and go for ice cream and have a real, live date for a friend’s wedding. I don’t ever want to feel the body scream of frustration that comes from too long a separation ever again. It gets to the point where just hearing about the goofy adventure that occurred when the other person tried to change a lightbulb becomes a kick to the gut because you weren’t there. It makes you wonder if you’re going through this because you couldn’t get someone “local” if you wanted to.

Sure, in a long distance relationship there’s a great thrill and almost disbelief in the moments when you come together again. That moment at the airport when That Face first comes into view and it takes you a half-second for your brain to process that THAT is your person. That smile when you’re getting dressed and hear someone else in the shower.

At a distance you are spared the day to day monotonies and patterns that claw away at any romance. Taking out the garbage isn’t sexy. Paying bills isn’t sexy. Surviving a day with the other’s extended family isn’t sexy. But reality is only about sexy sometimes. Life isn’t tv. People forget to pick up milk and have stinky feet and talk about stuff sometimes that you couldn’t care less about.

But that’s not to say domesticity isn’t often the most intoxicating thing. Doing your thing, and just knowing the other person is in the other room. No need to talk at that particular time. Don’t need to be doing the same thing. Just there. Conversing while making or cleaning up after dinner. Trying to remember between the two of you what the name of that bottle of wine was that you really liked. Walking down the aisle at Home Depot after finding duct tape or grommets or some stupid thing, and catching a glimpse of the other person leaning on the cart, and feeling a shiver. Knowing that if the world suddenly fell apart someone would grab you before you fell too far.

Anyway, kinda something I’ve been thinking about too much lately. But as proof that I am capable of much thought: Freakonomics is a really interesting book, and I have yet to figure out how to photograph the texture of my cat’s fur.

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