Public Displays [of long distance] Angst

I spent twenty-four hours mired in the pits of all the reasons why, statistically, most long-distance relationships don't work.

But what I believe was most frustrating, of all those things that made those twenty-four hours so miserably frustrating, was that I had spent the previous week frolicking in that jubilation of reunion when one gets to spend a significant chunk of time with the long-distance love.

I don't know how to resolve the distance and I seem to be parched for some assurance that it will be resolved. And I'm cognisant that perhaps I might need more assurance than I would otherwise due to some novel conviction that the distance must be resolved, or the plan for resolution be finalized, before I head into another winter. I can't fathom, actually, another winter of distance. And I think maybe that this complete and utter absence of imagination might be rendering me a little stringent and stubborn during this summer.

It was truly wonderful to see J. I adore him. And I find myself literally beaming with some ridiculous grin whenever we are together. I beamed with a grin AND pride, and oh! yes, a burst of fresh optimism, when someone commented at the airport on what a "great couple" we make while we were standing in line for the first latte's of the day. Somehow, however, as my time with J. approached its conclusion, as our plane was flying over Yakutat and Cordova, I felt my teeth grinding, my mind whirling and my shoulders tensing. Maybe the elephant in the room was growing, exponentially, the closer we came to separating without a plan or even discussion of a plan. I think maybe I was ready to fight for a plan. Or maybe I was ready to withdraw from the world and marinate my frustrations in a bout of unsocial self-pity because there was no plan, served with a side of bacon.

But I didn't withdraw. I ended up fighting with J. in public. In parking lots, to be more specific. Though the fights had the opposite effect - making us both wonder why we'd want to plan to be together. And then he left. I was so miserably beligerant by the time of the departure, that none of the scones, or the ziploc bags of Kodiak Carbonnade, nor the trays of Mac & Oregon Cheddar with Idaho Semillon left my freezer for Kodiak.

I eventually calmed myself down last night - with a pizza from Bear's Tooth and an evening of watching the Bachelor with girlfriends while our dogs frolicked with their various moose toys.

But I must still be angry, because I have no motivation to cook extras.

And I must be sad. Very, very sad. Because I have no motivation to cook.