We’ve been long distance for the past six months and have three months to go. My girlfriend studies German at a university, and as a part of her coursework she had to embark on her year abroad last September. The experience has been, besides predictably shitty, interesting. Over the past few years, I’ve somehow seen a lot of friends in long distance relationships—some of whom have managed it with frightening efficiency, others who have had giant burning messes. All things considered, my girlfriend and I have done pretty well.
My coworkers have provided for me in ways that are less quantifiable than money, career, or real estate: it’s been in venting sessions over drinks, showing up to my events, movie nights, hugs, holidays spent together, and general support.
By making shopping trips together, I learned to make a list and stick to it, and he learned that it’s not against the law to occasionally splurge on an unexpected set of headphones or a Duck Dynasty loofah.
Any gold digger willing to settle for me is lazy or silly or both. This is New York! There are way richer ladies with way higher earning potential who probably also know how to dance.
As the twentieth century draws to a close, I find myself the father of three boys under five.
The youngest is born under circumstances that seem positively routine compared with our first outing. When I return to hospital six hours after the birth, my wife is dressed and ready to go, the baby packed up like hand luggage.
The big career costs, like one partner quitting a job to move to a place where the other partner has a job, are obvious. But combining your life with another person’s, at its core, has a time cost.
Talking to the Person is almost always better than Talking about the Person, especially when the Person’s behavior is the problem.
When we got home, though, I started to freak out. Not freak out because now our money was intertwined and swiftly dwindling and SOMEONE didn’t pay the electric bill for a few months and so one of the first charges was like $200, which was historically something I wouldn’t have been aware of. No, I decided to channel my anxiety of our ever-increasing co-dependence into the fact that this account was HIS account and not mine. I was simply on it.