The Cost and Risk of a LDR

Long distance relationship… living apart together… whatever you want to call it… my love lives across the country.  I get to play house with him for a week to 10 days every 4-6 weeks and it’s lovely.

Our love is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  Our sexual connection is spot on.  Beyond that, I’ve never had someone love me so honestly.  I’ve never felt so comfortable just as I am.  I’ve never felt the calm of a partner who never let’s anger get the best of him.  He is safe.  He is fun.  He is nurturing.  He gives me the space to fumble, to cry, to feel weak.  He wipes my tears and tells me it’s ok…that I’m ok.  I don’t feel like I’m doing this alone… most of the time.  

It’s not perfect.  Don’t let our adorable pictures fool you.  But it’s perfectly full of growth.  That’s what you see in the pictures.  I adore him for all my growth.  I adore him for all his growth.  I see it in his eyes too.  The way he looks at me is with wonder and magic and it’s like you can see the hearts in his eyes, like in the cartoons.

This relationship was unexpected.  I mean to say, neither of us expected this relationship to really have legs.  We didn’t expect the relationship escalator.  I didn’t even want to be on the escalator when I met him.  He didn’t see us ever living together, I recall from an old conversation.  I used to say, “He’s fun.  I hope he sticks around.”  

He’s shown himself, even for his lack of relationship experience, to be understanding and a wonderful communicator.  Everytime I think I’m communicating too much, he assures me that he loves my “over-communicating” as I describe it.  I want to talk about everything, especially the difficult stuff.  He lets me talk and he doesn’t just listen to me rattle on.  He contributes and engages me.  He’s a partner.  He’s an engaged partner.

I’ve learned a lot about myself during this relationship.  I’ve softened.  I believe in love again, in a more traditional way than I thought.  I no longer rule out marriage, though I’d probably be just as happy with an alternative form of commitment like a collaring (from the bdsm world).  I see myself probably not as poly as I thought I was.  (Though I am certainly non monogamous.)

I was chatting with a dear friend this morning.  We have recently added a sexual component to our friendship.  I adore them.  I love spending time with them.  The sex is wonderful.  (I have a few friends I have great sex with.)  But guess what?  I still consider them a lovership.  (Most of my loverships do not share a sexual component.)

What is the difference?  Why do I have this hierarchy where P is the center and everyone else (my loverships) are like satellites?  The simple answer dawned on me this morning.  P is who I want to build my life with.  The rest are all wonderful parts of my life but he is the partner in my life.  I want to devote all these resources (time, money, energy) towards nurturing our relationship.  I wouldn’t travel and try to build a career across the country for a lovership.  I wouldn’t split my resources for a lovership.

While visiting him this last time, I had to ask for some clarification about the dedication level to our relationship.  I needed to see that we both felt we had a future together.  It’s not like a local relationship.  I could handle a local relationship with much less worry that I was investing in a dead end.  We asked each other if we had a magic wand, what would our relationship look like?  Good news, we were very much on the same page.  

So when I say I’m not poly enough, that I’m hierarchical (a bad word in poly world), this is what I mean:  I have a lot of loves, but I have one love I call my partner.  One love I want to build my life with.  One person I’m in love with, who hold those keys… the ones to my heart.  He’s the one that makes me cry everytime he looks at me and I think of my life without him in it.   I never knew I would feel like this.   


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