You’re right there, but I can’t touch you. I see your face, and I hear your words, but you are not in my room, or my home, or even pulling one of my suitcases for me. You speak slowly, not because you don’t know what to say, but because a screen is slow to translate. I guess I should be dating my iPhone. FaceTime and I have had quite a relationship. You receive my messages, and the I Love You’s. Eventually. I know I told you when it’s 2a your time, but in my time, I finally have time. Thankfully my date- my iPhone is never late, and rarely miscalculates days, dates, or timezones. He sounds perfect right? He almost would be, but he’s like the men that think that they are perfect, and that one misconstrued belief becomes their downfall. He, my phone, thinks that he is the solution to the distance between us, but all he does is remind you and me of how helpless each of us is to change our realities. The distance will not disappear. Our schedules will not become controllable. Our hearts will never find this easy.
I want to breakup- with him. Not you. I never wanted three in this relationship, or maybe it’s four. Because you, me, technology, and timezones are one big unhappy family. I’m not ready for my own family. Right now, I simply would be happy holding your hand and going for a walk. And maybe an address in California would be nice. That’s not too much to ask right? Well, maybe between my flight attendant life, and your pilot life, possibly. I never wanted to be a demanding girlfriend, but I can’t date this way. I know you can’t either. I suppose it’s a good thing, in a pathetic sort of way, that our only fights, if you could even call them that, are because we both feel our dreamlike relationship attacked by the facts that we are so powerless to change.
FaceTime tends to think all is made right, but what the iPhone fails to understand is that he is not making any distance disappear. He’s just made a relationship exist for longer than it could have. It makes us both frustrated that holding our phones is the closest we will get right now to holding each other. And this wi-fi? Well, it’s worse when I am four hours away, instead of oceans away. For the fifth time I see ‘Disconnected‘, and “God Damn it, iPhone! Tell me something I don’t know.” I know how disconnected, and hopeless, and pointless this all feels. How I feel. And now I am yelling. This has turned into a fight. Yelling, and throwing across the room the device that is keeping you close and at arms length. Begging it to please stop ruining us. I am not so good at communication, and technology has this wonderful way of making communication harder, but then again easier. When you say you can’t hear me for the third time, speaking louder will not fix that. Saying more will not explain better. My heart is as broken as this cell reception. Distance you are an asshole, and iPhone you an instigator. I will send you a sarcastic thank you for mediating this mess.
I feel defeated. Sad. And of course, alone.
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