airport posting

 Being in an international long distance relationship will teach you that time and space can stretch and bend in weird ways. For example, you can fit way more than you'd expect in a small backpack that fits ryanair’s hand luggage policy; and 12 days is actually quite a lot of time to spend somewhere with someone you love. You might learn that seeing a language you don't speak on roadsigns can feel relieving. That a full day of travelling on untrustworthy trains and flying cheap airlines really doesn't bother you that much, even when you get a bit of travel anxiety. Or that saying goodbye doesn't really get easier the more you do it, despite knowing it's not for that long.

Visiting my boyfriend used to feel like going on any other trip for the first few times, just like going on vacation. Every time I visited it was a different town or a different house. But coming back to a place and room I’ve been to before felt almost strangely comforting. There’s always him, the most important and most familiar part of every trip, but now there’s all these surroundings that also feel familiar. It still felt exciting, but in a new way, it also just felt normal, like clicking back into place.

After 12 days of being in a town, in a house, cooking in a kitchen, sleeping in a bed, doing groceries in a shop and learning its layout, walking around enough that you no longer get lost in said town (or at least its central part) you do start feeling at home. Especially when you're there with someone who, just in general, feels like home.

It's a weird feeling, I've felt this way before, especially the only other time I stayed with my boyfriend this long a few months ago. It's like my brain kind of accepted that as the new norm. It's the feeling of walking into my room and suddenly smelling my boyfriend's house on my clothes, which I couldn't smell until it stopped surrounding me. It takes me a while of sitting in my room to adjust to the thought that this is it again now, and it just doesn't seem quite right that he's not right next to me. I'll quickly readjust to my own routine, of course. I'll even get used to only seeing my boyfriend on a screen for those 6-or-so weeks. And if I'm being honest, part of me is really happy to sleep in my own bed again and have some time to myself and get back to knitting and all my usual hobbies that are waiting for me in my room. There's a silver lining to everything. 

But when you love someone it's always a bit painful to have to untangle the routines you've just built together, to get used to cooking for one and waking up on your own again. I don't wanna have to hear my boyfriend's voice over the phone, I want to open the door and see him there. I want to watch movies holding hands and cuddling instead of having to share screens and struggle with shitty wifi. I want to go to the pub and bring our food upstairs after I cook it and get a warm hot chocolate when I feel bad and pick out snacks together.

And not to sound cliche, but it’s not just about the fun parts of being together. It feels easier for me to be there when things go wrong. I hate feeling helpless, staring at my phone from a thousand miles away. It feels better to go get groceries and cook soup and wash the dishes, than to send encouraging messages. It feels better (maybe selfishly, maybe for my own peace of mind) to sit there in a&e or in a dark room, even when sitting there is all that I can do. And, well again maybe selfishly, it feels better to be held when I have a panic attack and to be comforted by a calm, loving voice when I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

I enjoy being in a long distance relationship, it's genuinely such a special and fun experience in its own ways. I get to feel at home 1000 miles away from home and see places I would've never seen otherwise (and go to some ridiculous airports). It's great to love someone and be loved by someone so much that you're both willing to do all this. I feel lucky to cry in airports and train stations and I cherish every first cuddle that feels like coming home, and every last hug and saying "okay, I have to go now or I'll never go." But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impatiently waiting for the day we won't have to say goodbye and cry at departures terminals anymore and our things can live together, scattered on a bedside table.