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Remotely-controlled love
Word to the wise: True love on different continents means crying alone on your living room floor, losing weight, and losing your mind
J. Bina
Sleeping around has given me the experience to realize that good people are scarce. I mean people who have ideals and morals that will be inclined to protect you rather than hurt you; people that know the real difference between right and wrong, who want the best for those who they love.
And beyond that – people who know how to love selflessly, who aren’t afraid to give themselves completely, and are willing to be honest with themselves in the face of the most frightening obstacles relationships have to offer. In short, those who are always seeking to better themselves.
Lucky me. Not only did one of those people find me, but he had the nerve to catch me before I got on a plane from Tel Aviv to LA. It was a short trip during last December’s wet season, escorted by some of IDF’s finest, including my own soldier.
My soldier came to me that next summer, lived with me for a few weeks which extended into a few months, and then went back home to finish his studies at University. We fell in love during that time, agreed to stay committed, and scoffed at the idea of long-distance heartaches.
This was true love you know, and if the storybooks have ever taught us anything, it’s that true love can withstand any distance, be it in miles or kilometers. A good long-distance calling plan and some dirty novels also help.
Word to the wise – true love on different continents means crying alone on your living room floor, weekly life makeovers, losing weight, and losing your mind.
By my late teens, I had developed a list of certainties in my mind. Things that I knew would happen by my mid-20’s, but now at the age of 24, I am forced to pull out my eraser and clear off a few items.
I am not certain of my intended career path. I am a fantastic business analyst. I am a fantastic journalist. I am a fantastic abstract painter. But the only underlying theme I have found in my talents is the fantastic ability to change my mind.
Above all, I am certainly not certain that I will ever know how to keep a relationship going. I love my soldier. I love him totally, and yet when we talk on the phone, I find myself wanting to reach through the receiver and dig my nails into his neck. What I never learned in my decades of storybook education was that long distance relationships will turn even the strongest, most self-possessed people into needy, irritable, weepy little children.
Thus, being reduced to children, we cry and scream. We also play. Allow me to briefly describe some of the games and devices that we, two respectable adults, ultimately succumbed to.
1. 'My life is so much better than yours. I bet that makes you want me more.'
Both my soldier and I are very good at this game, but we have different styles. When he plays, I get detailed accounts of who’s party it is, where it will be, the excessive amounts of alcohol, the good looking people, the jokes, the drugs, the debauchery. If I call when he’s at the party, he makes damn sure to pick up and let me hear the fun around him.
He goes for overkill whereas I go for subtlety. I’m a firm believer that nothing is more powerful than the imagination, so I allow my opponent to use whatever imaginative skills he has. I let him ask me what I’m doing that weekend, and then give a very vague response – ‘going out with friends’ or ‘meeting some people at a club’ will suffice.
If I’m lucky, he’ll call the next day some time in the afternoon, which gives me a chance let him hear my sleepy voice over the phone…’oh, I just got home late last night, that’s all.’ Let him figure out the rest. And if he calls when I’m out, I let the message service answer him, knowing full well he’s guessing about my activities.
2. 'I love you so much that I will stay completely out of your life.' More commonly known as 'Call me when you’re not busy.'
Bull…shit.
3. 'Just because we haven’t talked in a week doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong, sweetheart.'
My soldier is going to read this and get angry but I have to say that I own this game. Any girl with an ounce of brain knows this classic move – all it takes is a prolonged period of no contact followed by a clueless return.
Don’t return his calls for a week, stay away from emails, and avoid any kind of interaction. Then, give him a call and act like absolutely nothing is wrong. No matter how much he interrogates you, never ever give in. As far as you know, you two just happened to miss each other all week, nothing else. This game has always won me high points, guys don’t know up from down when you execute it well.
My soldier would get this one when I was especially mad. I could have him so lost, no amount of IDF training would help him find his way home. And when I threw him an “I love you” map, he was grateful
Because I cannot deny that at 24 these things still happen, I work very hard to attach significance to the stupidity. I have to remind myself that my soldier and I do not have the luxury of face-time. Every little insecurity either of us has ever harbored can grow and fester in the fertile waters that separate us, and there is no hope of bridging the gap anytime soon.
I also have to be sure to pair the games with the honest moments - those windows of conversation where we admit that nothing is ever really enjoyable without the other beside us, that the present moments apart are empty against the future moments together. Simple moments when we recount a romantic dinner, or an insightful conversation during a road trip.
For every low “you need me more than I need you“ blow, there is a far more compelling moment of unashamed truth. I think that as long there is actual love in a relationship, there will exist those windows of naked honesty to air out the stale pains of game playing. What is so hard for many of us is to couple the good with the bad. It can feel impossible to keep your bearings straight when the windows are shut and there’s no air left to breathe.
But secretly, I appreciate the chaos. In my heart of hearts, I kind of like seeing how much I can handle. I don’t seek out the craziness, but I think it’s good to see how much craziness you can endure. I’m young, I’m strong, I want to learn my own limits.
I don’t know too much anymore, except that teenage certainties lead to adult re-evaluations where you don’t necessarily stop the games, but you do start to give them proper names. They say that recognizing an issue is the first step in resolving it, but sometimes I feel like there aren’t enough windows in the damn room to resolve anything. What if everything’s shut and you can’t breathe?
Well, at the risk of sounding cornier than I already do, if it’s meant to be, someone will open a window. I know this because I am infinitely wise in my 24 years of life. And if no one does that, you’re going to suffocate and die.
And when the stench from your love-carcass seeps out of the cracks in the walls, someone will inevitably come in and open a new window anyway. So if true love didn’t put a smile on your face in the end, the irony of love lost definitely will.
J. Bina is a recent college graduate currently living in Southern California
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