L, cubed

Life. Love. Long-distance relationships.

True journal entries are unedited and unabridged. You write your thoughts, opinions, dreams, frustrations, questions and daily minutia as fast as they come to you, as fast as your hand can write before feeling like it will fall off. The thing about blogging is that you can edit. Not only can you delete and re-write what you already wrote, but because you know that people are reading your blog, you self-edit the content of your posts. A real journal entry is not ever as well-constructed or as well thought out as a blog entry. But alas, I don't keep a real journal and long ago destroyed the ones I used to have (it was too mortifying to read my entries: "Dear Diary, I'm in love with Dylan McKay" - this at the same age that Anne Frank was keeping a much more serious diary). As open as I am about certain things, there are a lot of things that I usually keep to myself, until I can make more sense of them, or understand my feelings about them better.

But lately I've had a lot going on in my head and think that maybe it's time to put it in words because it's often through writing that I work out what's really going on and how I really feel about it.

I suppose it was naive of me to think that El Hombre and I could maintain a strong relationship and a great romance despite having 5000 miles of ocean between us. I think I thought that because I previously had a two-year LDR (out of almost five years) which worked out really well (that is, worked out well while it was LDR; that it ended up ending is an entirely different matter). I figured: with email, gchat and skype, supplemented by monthly visits, we'll be fine! A new adventure!

Hmm well, things don't always work out as you think they will. The truth is, LDR has been really rough on our relationship. And part of that has to do with the simple fact that LDR really sucks, but part of it also has to do with who El Hombre is, and who I am. And I guess that's where it gets complicated.

When El Hombre and I first started dating, we were totally and utterly smitten with each other. We spent hours staring at each other in happiness. I used to think: EVERYONE deserves an El Hombre in their life (meaning, not my El Hombre, but someone who makes them feel the way El Hombre made me feel: giddy, lucky, astoundingly happy). We were so happy just to spend time with each other, wherever we were, whatever we were doing. I think if I had never been in a relationship before, I would have thought: this is what love must always feel like. Which is dangerous, because when you are innocent and naive enough to think that love always feels that magical, you will think that you no longer love that person when the magical feeling fades, which of course, inevitably will. Ah, the delicious, magical wonderment of first falling in love with someone. There is no feeling like it.

But like all good things, it comes to an end. You don't feel that magical giddiness forever - if you did, people would stop going to work because they'd want to spend just another hour (and then another, and another) in the embrace of the person that gave them that magical feeling. But if you are lucky, the initial magical butterflies-in-your-stomach eventually turns into a more solid version of love: a love of who that person really is, not who you perceived them to be initially (which was probably: perfect, untouchable, the most wonderful person to walk the face of the earth). And if you are still lucky, that love will progress into an even stronger and more mature love: the kind that inspires you to bind your fate with the other, till death do you part. It's an injustice to the various stages/degrees of love that we call all of these things by the same word (and worse yet, that we use the same word to describe how we feel about ice cream or snow or roller coasters).

Anyways, where was I? As I often do in real life, I went off on a tangent. So when El Hombre and I were in a young relationship, it was perfect and magical. But then real life got in the way, as it is prone to do. We discovered our politics were different. I lost my job. I found a new job, but it was in a different country. I moved abroad. And with each of these things, the seed of doubt in El Hombre's mind seemed to grow: how could we be together when our politics were so different that we fight about it all the time? How could we be together when we are living in different countries? Is it even a relationship when two people aren't physically in the same location?

Did I have these same questions and doubts, independently? I don't know. But everytime El Hombre voiced a doubt, a seed of doubt was planted in my own head. To me, the issue is not that we argue about politics, or that we currently live in different countries. My doubt stems from his doubt. He thinks: how can a relationship work when two people argue all the time? And I think: how can a relationship work when everytime we have an argument, he thinks the relationship isn't going to work?

I guess to me, my view on relationships is the same as my view on life in general: where there's a will, there's a way. If you want it to happen, you can make it happen. So if two people want the relationship to work, it can work. But both people have to truly want it to work. And when El Hombre questions whether we will work, because of something that I view as trivial, whether it is how we feel about Obama or the issue of 5000 miles between us, his doubt makes me doubt. Now to some people, politics or long distance may seem like big issues. But to me, they are trivial - it's all trivial, because at the end of the day, all that matters is: do you love each other? And to me, if the question is yes, then nothing else really matters - you can make it work. Not to say that it will be easy by any means, but that if the two people really want it to work, they will do everything in their power to make it happen. In that sense, I am a complete and utter romantic, because I truly believe that love (real love) can conquer all.

I think, on the other hand, that El Hombre believe that if two people are meant together, things should just kind of work themselves out.

If it was an LSAT equation, El Hombre's would go something like: If two people are meant to be together, things will work out.

Whereas mine would go something like: If two people want to be together, they will make things work out.

I think El Hombre's equation leaves a large element to fate, whereas mine puts an onus (perhaps too much) on the individuals.

Where does that leave us? An unanswered question, or rather: to be determined.

*

As much as I am a romantic when I am IN a relationship, the moment I am out of one, I become a staunch realist. I don't believe my world will end. I don't believe that I can't live without the other person. I know I can and will move on, and that life will be ok. I move on. Maybe in the view of others, too quickly. But I think that's because when it comes to life, I am a survivor. And wallowing in sorrow and regret to me...is like killing yourself slowly and painfully. Why wallow? Why regret? Be thankful that you had the opportunity to love and be loved (because every opportunity is a gift, we must not forget), but when it becomes clear that it's over, move on. I am of the opinion (with respect to most matters): "and this too, shall pass."

*

I hate being alone. When I was younger, maybe even throughout college, I was 100% an introvert. I enjoyed being with people (well, some people), but I could just as happily be alone. I needed lots of time to myself, I would resist going out often because I would rather be alone than surrounded by people who didn't really know me (which presents its own paradox, because how can people get to really know you when you refuse to let them get to know you because you prefer to be alone). But sometime between law school and now, I became a 100% extrovert. I love people. I need company, all the time (although I remain picky about the company I keep). Whether it's traveling, eating, drinking, shopping, watching TV, bumming around, hanging out or just doing nothing, EVERYTHING is better when done with someone else (whose company you enjoy). I truly believe that humans are meant to not be alone.

*

Another difference between El Hombre and me: his memory is long-lasting, while mine is non-existent. After any given argument, after about five minutes (and definitely by the time I wake up the next day), I forget what we argued about, or that we even argued at all. But El Hombre's memory endures, and he remembers all our arguments, and these things weigh on his mind.

*

The thing about my relationship with El Hombre is that I honestly don't know. I feel like what we have is really rare - because I think to find someone you really love and who really loves you, to find someone you have actual chemistry with, to find someone you can be with non-stop for days and weeks and not get sick of - these things are so rare. And because it's so rare, and because I think we are lucky to have found each other, and because when we are good, we are SO GOOD, I think what we have is worth fighting for. But when we have an argument and it escalates to the point where one of us says "fine, let's just break up" (and to be fair, the last person who said this was me, but...I didn't MEAN it - one thing about women, we don't always mean what we say) and such an argument plants serious doubt in El Hombre's mind about whether we can work - well this doubt deflates my hope in us, just a teeny bit.

*

These days, I kind of feel like I am in a holding pattern. Waiting. In six months, will El Hombre be in SF or Asia? If in Asia, where? Will we still be together? Where do I want to be?

And then that last question leads to more questions: where do I want to be? The answer depends, doesn't it? Obviously, I want to be with El Hombre. But what if we don't want to be in the same place? What if, try as we might, we can't end up in the same place? If you asked me to picture a perfect future six months from now, I would say either: "back in SF with El Hombre, and we both have jobs we love" or "living in HK with El Hombre, and we both have jobs we love." (Although I also think I'd be just as happy in LA or NY) But El Hombre's vision of a perfect future six months from now may (and I'm sure does) differ. For one, he neither wants to be in SF or HK.

And the answer would change, if I was not in a relationship (and I know this bothers El Hombre, because he thinks whether you are in a relationship or not, you should have what you want; but I think: what you want changes when you are in a relationship). What would I do, where would I be six months from now if I were single? If I were single, I would consider: moving to London (so I could travel through more of Europe) or moving to NY (which has gained a newfound appeal thanks to P and J) or moving back to SF (which when all is said and done, is home to me) or moving to HK (because I'm starting to enjoy life in Asia and think I could spend another year or two out here, but job opps and career development are much better in HK than Tokyo).

El Hombre recently said to me that I should plan my future according to what I want, without taking him into consideration. Objectively, I know he says this because he wants me to get what I want in life, and doesn't want to prevent me from getting what I want. But subjectively, this seems like such an impossible (and slightly hurtful) thing to ask, because when you are in a relationship, everything changes. What you want changes. And this is not a bad thing, it's just the natural order of things.

*

So. After putting all my thoughts into words, do I have any more clarity? Not really. I think (as I did before writing all this) that what El Hombre and I have is rare and special and worth fighting for. I don't know (as I didn't before writing all this) where the next 6 months or year will lead us individually, but I hope it will be to each other. And yet, if things were to not work out, I know we'd both be ok. I think we've both been wondering: "what should I do?" (with respect to our relationship, individual careers, where to live next) But whenever I ask myself this, my heart answers with another question: "well what do you want?" And I think that's the real question to be answered, and a more complex one.

*

Relationships are, in so many ways, a gamble. (is it totally cheesy that as I write, this Kenny Roger's song popped into my head? "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em") And I'm just not ready to fold. (I guess I believe that the roulette ball can land on my number, however unlikely - and guess what? IT DID!)