You Love. You Lose. You Learn.

I realize it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote, and there’s a reason for that.

And I’ve been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to share that reason with you in a blog entry. Part of me wants this to be a place where I actually write about the important things that happen in my life and how those things make me feel. But I’m struggling with whether or not some things should remain private. Where is the line between something I should write about and something I shouldn’t write about? That’s my current struggle.

And I think I’ve decided that if it’s important to warrant this much deliberation, then that’s the first sign that I am approaching that line. And this particular event, I’ve decided, is one that is very personal and private and special in my life, so I’ve decided that I would only give a glossing over of the details and save the rest for myself and my closest friends.

The story starts at the beginning of January when I met someone.

Over the days, weeks, and subsequent months we got closer and closer until we started dating. And, even though I am 26, this was my first real, adult relationship. The idea of being in a committed relationship was something that had always scared me, which is odd considering it was also something I had been wanting to experience for so long. It scared me so much that I would go out of my way not to even be presented with the opportunity of getting into a relationship. I’ve often been told by friends that I tend to push away the very things I claim I want; that I am horribly afraid of actually being happy. And I think, to some extent, it’s true.

But, in January, when I met this guy, something changed. I knew I was ready. And even though he lived in Orlando at the time, and I lived here, we never went more than about three weeks at a time without seeing each other due to him coming to the city often. And eventually, we decided to make it official.

His job in Orlando was due to finish at the end of June, and he would be relocating back here after that, so we only had to make the long distance thing work for a few months until we would be able to have a normal relationship where we could see each other all the time. So, I found myself often looking forward to then and started making plans of things we would do and places we would go once he had moved back.

But then, in April, he was offered another job for once his Orlando one was over. Two weeks after he left Orlando and moved here, he would be moving again. But this time, it was to be much further away. This time, he would be moving to China for a year.

I was devastated. Up until then, I had kept telling myself I only needed to wait until June and my patience would be rewarded. And it felt as if the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. The thing I had waited 26 years for had finally presented itself to me and I was finally ready to accept it into my life, and it was being taken away right before I could get my hands on it.

Sure, there is always the possibility of getting back together once he’s returned from China, but I can’t let myself think like that. If I do, it will stop me from moving on with my own life. And if I spent a year patiently waiting for a relationship that didn’t end up happening, that would cause ill feelings and even more depression than this initially loss would.

The last week of June, his job in Orlando ended and he moved in with me until the time came for him to move to China. And it was wonderful. We were finally able to spend quality time together and see each other every day. We were able to have a real relationship. We went to movies together. We went out to eat together. We went out drinking together. We went to Six Flags together. We just did everything together.

Then, on July 21, at 1pm, he got into a cab and was gone.

I’m not going to lie. I was devastated. I’ve never been good at goodbyes, and this was one of the most painful I’ve experienced. The only one I can think of that hurt more was when I moved to New York after high school and had a horribly heart wrenching goodbye with my family at the Des Moines International Airport.

I’ve had a week now to recover from the blow, and I still can’t quite put into words the way I feel about the situation. I have a plethora of emotions that come to me when I think about it. Of course there is sadness, frustration, loneliness, and things of that nature. But I’ve been surprised to discover that I also find glimmers of pride, accomplishment, and joy. Appreciation. Understanding.

We are still keep in touch via the magic of the Internet and get to communicate every other day or so, so it’s not as if I’ve had to lose him from my life completely, which has made the whole situation a little bit easier. He’s twelve hours ahead of me, so it kind of feels like I am chasing him around the globe. Trying to keep up. When the sun rises, sometimes I like to think that he’s personally sent it to me from the future. Sometimes I’ll look up at the moon and think how he did the same twelve hours earlier. I know it’s silly to do things like this, but it makes things a little bit easier for the time being.

I’ve been laying low since he left though. For the first couple of days I didn’t leave the apartment and just submerged myself into the world of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Thank God it came out the same day and I was able to use it as an immediate distraction.

People have started to tell me that it’s time for me to get back out there and start meeting some new people and going on dates, but for the time being, I still don’t think I’m quite ready for that. But now I know that if and when I do decide it’s time to get back out there, I don’t need to be so scared of it all anymore.

I now have a better idea of what I do want in a relationship and the what I don’t. I learned a lot about myself throughout this entire experience, and therefore, ultimately, it was a positive one. I am very thankful I had it.