day one continued (anunsent lette)
It's been difficult, but with the distraction of friends and a bar,
I'm starting to feel like my own individual self. Funny how my career can't do that for me.
It's the smallness of this town. Too small to get drunk in public alone, a pleasure I admit I miss. I envy you your travels. I'm sure they're edifying in the face of a relationship deteriorating from absence. It's also helping me realize the tenuousness of our connection. I think it's dependent on the immediate recognition. But you could never, or are unwilling to, deliver the kind of correspondence that I would crave. I think you understand me less than I had assumed. That's okay and it would be fine if we didn't have to deal with distance. But we do. And, as Steve said, "if I'm going to get married, it has to be ideal." And he's right. I'm willing to and really want to accept foibles in my partner, because I know I have plenty. Also, I love and appreciate many of the flaws I see in my friends and ex-boyfriends, and I want mine to be appreciated and loved. But I can't deal with emotional distance, and I feel that you're not willing to try to bridge that distance. It feels like you just allow it to grow and then throw up your hands. And I'm left to just feel like a fool on the phone, begging you to engage.
I realize that the magic that happens between us goes on when we're in the same room, together. So I understand why you conclude from that that there's no way to create that in any other way. And maybe you're right. But I'm a writer, so maybe I press the point, because I think so many things can be distilled on a page, or in words exchanged. And perhaps that is my own egocentrism, me thinking that other people put the same value into communication that I do. Maybe you don't feel that you can communicate the same way, or you don't think that my communications are as lucid or meaningful as I do. That's valid. But if that's the case, I think this impasse illustrates an incompatibility that would probably not be fatal for a normal relationship, but is certainly deleterious to a long-distance affair.
And maybe the immediacy of your touch, your face, your thin body next to mine in my bed was half of what was so intoxicating about this relationship. Part of me hopes that this hiatus will make you take the kind of drastic measures that will "prove something" to me. But I know you're too logical for that. And that kind of turns me off, to be honest. The way you talked about our relationship last night made me cringe. It's "a pain in the ass" to have a girlfriend in California to miss all the time. I know it hurts. But that's kind of harsh. I'm done writing this letter now. I'm in love with you, but I'll let that go if I have to.
And maybe I have to.
I'm starting to feel like my own individual self. Funny how my career can't do that for me.
It's the smallness of this town. Too small to get drunk in public alone, a pleasure I admit I miss. I envy you your travels. I'm sure they're edifying in the face of a relationship deteriorating from absence. It's also helping me realize the tenuousness of our connection. I think it's dependent on the immediate recognition. But you could never, or are unwilling to, deliver the kind of correspondence that I would crave. I think you understand me less than I had assumed. That's okay and it would be fine if we didn't have to deal with distance. But we do. And, as Steve said, "if I'm going to get married, it has to be ideal." And he's right. I'm willing to and really want to accept foibles in my partner, because I know I have plenty. Also, I love and appreciate many of the flaws I see in my friends and ex-boyfriends, and I want mine to be appreciated and loved. But I can't deal with emotional distance, and I feel that you're not willing to try to bridge that distance. It feels like you just allow it to grow and then throw up your hands. And I'm left to just feel like a fool on the phone, begging you to engage.
I realize that the magic that happens between us goes on when we're in the same room, together. So I understand why you conclude from that that there's no way to create that in any other way. And maybe you're right. But I'm a writer, so maybe I press the point, because I think so many things can be distilled on a page, or in words exchanged. And perhaps that is my own egocentrism, me thinking that other people put the same value into communication that I do. Maybe you don't feel that you can communicate the same way, or you don't think that my communications are as lucid or meaningful as I do. That's valid. But if that's the case, I think this impasse illustrates an incompatibility that would probably not be fatal for a normal relationship, but is certainly deleterious to a long-distance affair.
And maybe the immediacy of your touch, your face, your thin body next to mine in my bed was half of what was so intoxicating about this relationship. Part of me hopes that this hiatus will make you take the kind of drastic measures that will "prove something" to me. But I know you're too logical for that. And that kind of turns me off, to be honest. The way you talked about our relationship last night made me cringe. It's "a pain in the ass" to have a girlfriend in California to miss all the time. I know it hurts. But that's kind of harsh. I'm done writing this letter now. I'm in love with you, but I'll let that go if I have to.
And maybe I have to.
posted by chavala at 11:12 PM
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