Love pre-iPod was a very simple thing. I had my regular Friday night and Sunday movie dates, and all was well. Then, suddenly, as one starts figuring out that there is more to the world than our creature comforts, so does the possibility of new life maps.
Almost expectedly, the lover that will complement you in this ride will be someone from somewhere far away from your local Starbucks. The inconvenient love affair. Always the most defining one of all the relationships you will have in the annals of your amorous history. Ironically, for some it’s a function of convenience, to keep things separate and distant; for others, it’s because they have dated everyone in their city and have been left still hopeful despite the dire situation. For the rest, they just love an accent.
I examined my newly minted relationship in HK last weekend (eight months but it still feels so brand new), in the land of transient romance. Somehow, when we all get together in HK, save for one of my BFFs who just had a baby, we’re all partnerless. Each of us was always seeing someone somewhere else in the world, and we always got together to have that pseudo-single feeling until we met up with our transatlantic lovers.
Except, this time, I had a real boy by my side.
After months of speculation that I purchased a male-order boyfriend online since I was on a famous emboygo, my new love was something that they had to see and feel. One of my friends actually went through his wallet to see if he really was legit. They were all happy for me. He got drinks for my friends and made sure he got to speak to each of them before they got cross eyed from the vodka tonics. We were smugly the first people to leave Kee Club at 1:30 am. Domestic bilis.
“I just like knowing I can work here in Hong Kong and see her once a month somewhere else. Our friends and lives are separated and if it doesn’t work out there’s no painful separation of property like friends,” says one of my earnest and romantic banker friend who is in a five-month “relationship” with a model in Australia.
Another one just came out of one with a real-deal supermodel. They were both not based anywhere and held a courtship in different Aman resorts around the world.
“We have this bubble,” he used to say.
I would say it was a pretty easy bubble to pop, a romance born into privilege and villas. Then she met his friends and decided that she didn’t like too many people looking at her. The bubble popeth soon after and he found that he was not in a long-distance relationship (LDR) but in a lost-distance one.
The love of my life has been vacillating the world that I need to keep five different time-zone clocks to keep up with him. I get jet lag even if I’m based here in Manila following him on his time. Thursday he’s in India, Saturday in London, and Monday in New York.
“Hong Kong is too small, you need to import love interests, plus guys here are lame,” my jaded female cohort said as she collected boyfriends around the world like snow globes. I do have to agree: I love my male friends but would I date them? They won’t even share their friends for cupcake’s sake! “I figure I’m not cheating unless we actually reach that part in our relationship where we don’t eat in Michelin-starred restaurants and progress to having greasy-pizza days.”
I found this very profound. I never thought I’d be open to dating again — at least for a long time. Then like in the movies, it really just happens and what happens next are loads of outfits, tearful reunions in airline lounges, and staying awake for Vonage calls. For the more savvy, try Magic Jack.
I used to think that a long-distance relationship was ideal — you get to spend time with your friends, no more falling into the co-dependent abyss of pre-fab relationships. You can see and be with each other in your own time. I thought it was great. Until, of course, you freakin’ fall in love.
I have the heart of the creamy center of a Twinkie. I cry at everything. I always forget about that. I would dream of holiday getaways and romantic reunions, but at the end of the day I just want someone to share my Apple TV with. Someone I can get neurotic with and not have to stress about changing in four different outfits so we seem like we were spending more time together. I used to be very vigilant in my La Perla loungewear that was not slutty but not too homely either. Loungewear you need to dry clean is a very painful paradox. It ultimately also suggests the perils of your high-maintenance relationship.
The other day my boyfriend told me that my hair was too red and that he much preferred the color of my roots. I fell in love with him even more. He didn’t say this while we were tanning at the St. Regis in Bali or having an amazing dinner during one of our usual 30-hour dates at the Ritz, he said this while we were in my favorite restaurant, Pepper Lunch at Rockwell. The extra Pepper Lunch butter dribbled down my mouth. I didn’t care. I was having a greasy pizza moment. He made an effort to spend time with me here in Manila after I told him I wanted him to get to know my hood. He wanted to do a summer in Prague or Estonia. I figured that it may be fun, but I’m not in college anymore. I wanted him to know my home. And, yes, my friends. And my very colorful family. The true test of everything. I was ready to share property.
In the beginning, LDR can be the best thing ever. You talk about vacations all the time, have amazing trips and adventures. Then you start craving Law and Order and takeout. When my friends tell me I have such an exciting life, I tell them I still feel alone. I just want someone to watch TV with. In the end, this is the post-modern symbol of true love.
One of my recently “broken” friends who has been in a stable relationship for a year actually bought a couch to complement her Apple TV. When my boyfriend strokes my hair as I watch cops figure out murders, I feel in my element. This is what Colette, Shakespeare and the rest forgot to mention. There’s a lot to be said about nothing. This nothing is what turns an LDR from a relationship into a realationship.
I once told my boyfriend as he was planning another exotic getaway that what I truly wanted was just us eating ice cream and Facebooking together.
I guess I would never appreciate all these wonderful things if he wasn’t so far away. I feel I have changed in so many ways with this person. Where my friends may see an LDR as something convenient, it has been for me a practice of enlightenment. It made me focus on us as a couple. From having a dream love affair, we slowly worked our way into having a deep and meaningful relationship in different time zones. LDR can work in both ways; it can be something of casual convenience or something to make you understand commitment more. It showed me what keeps people close. It showed me that Haagen Dazs and cop shows do go a long way. And as much as I’d love to get a tan in the Maldives, we always say to each other each time we board a plane to visit one another, we don’t think fancy restaurants or nightclubs, we look forward to watching romantic comedies in our sweats.
One time a friend of mine complained that her husband didn’t take her out enough. I totally understood her predicament, but at the same time I felt psychotic for being envious of her problem. “All we do is watch TV!” she cried. Brain Oreos for me.
Life is funny. But one thing I realize is that one doesn’t need to look far for true happiness and satisfaction, even if you have the Atlantic Ocean separating you and your loved one. Many LDR couples compensate by lavishing each other with overpriced meals for sub-par quality time. Sometimes, all you need is to make a home for one another when you see each other, and with jet lag and all, everything seems not only to make sense but you realize that the world is indeed your home.
I’ve set my alarm early tomorrow morning so I can say goodbye to him before he flies off to London. A highlight of my week. It takes so little to be happy when you are truly happy. Wherever you may be.