My Long Distance Relationship Story

Well, the story of myself and my boyfriend isn't exactly typical, but I felt like sharing because it's 2 AM and I'm bored.

We met on May 30th, 2009 in the psychiatric ward of a hospital. I had gotten there the night before because I overdosed on anti-depressants which were washed down with alcohol and went to school; I fell asleep in first period, the teacher couldn't wake me up, the administrators called an ambulance...yada yada. He had gotten there early (around 4 AM) in the morning because he ran away from home and while he was at his friend's house, he took some prescription meds which weren't his. He was fine, and didn't need to be there, but the police didn't seem to think so.

While we were in the hospital, he tried so hard to get me to open up. I was quiet and shy; this is not normal for me, but when I am in a new environment, I clam up and shut everyone out. He said that he saw in my eyes that I was broken and that was why he tried so hard. I thought it was too good to be true; I had overdosed because of a romantic interest, you see. This interest used me as a sex toy while he went out with other girls. He had a new one every few weeks. I thought if I kept sending him pictures, kept meeting up with him, kept putting up with him calling me a ***** in front of his friends, that one day he might see that I was more than just an object. I was wrong. When I got to the hospital, the next day I was greeted by the beautiful face of my Alex, and I thought that surely I must be dreaming. Why would someone so attractive, so unique, so friendly, so calm, so wonderful, want to get to know me, who was so insecure, ugly, broken, promiscuous, impulsive, stupid?

But he did get to know me, and 5 days later when I was discharged, I looked him up on myspace immediately and added him. We began messaging back and forth when he got out, and we arranged to meet up. My mother and I picked him up and she dropped us off at the mall. We walked around the stores for a bit and then went to see a movie; it was The Hangover. We had to buy tickets to Transformers 2 because we weren't going with an adult, bad-*** indeed. I remember the smallest details; how he put his head on my shoulder once when he laughed, how his knees casually brushed against mine and gradually became comfortable resting with his leg touching mine. I remember how, before the movie, we got sushi and I accidentally dropped one of the pieces in the soy sauce because I was clueless with chopsticks. When my mother picked us up from the movie theater, I didn't want the night to end, so we set out on a quest to find a Starbucks. The one in the local Safeway was closed at that time, unfortunately. Come to think of it, I remember that before my mother dropped us off at the mall, she took one of her infamous 100 mph turns and Alex theatrically pretended to go flying into me. I wanted so badly to put my arms around him and keep him from going back to his side of the backseat when she was done turning.

When my mother dropped him off, he asked me to get out of the car to say goodbye, so I did. He walked around the back of the car to meet me; he got to my side before I could even take a step. I know, you might be hoping for a fairy-tale goodnight kiss. No such luck; just a warm, friendly hug. There was perhaps a trace of something more in the way his arms lingered around me and the way he breathed down my neck. I wanted him to kiss me so badly; I didn't think I'd ever wanted anything so much. But, he went inside his house and my mother and I left.

The next day, it came as something of a shock to me to read a bulletin he had posted on myspace; it said that his mother was kicking him out, sending him to live with his father in another state. Her excuse was that he was "destroying their family" or something of the sort. Alex has always had a strained relationship with his mother, who I'm firmly convinced is bipolar. You see, she's not the kindest woman. When Alex had his family meeting at the hospital, she spent the entire thing screaming profanities at him about his drug use and other such habits with his little half-sister in the room. She blamed him for a number of things which he had nothing to do with. I remember once when I was on Skype with Alex, he brought a chair into his room so he had somewhere to sit other than his bed and 5 minutes later, his mother came into the room. I quietly sat through about 10 minutes of his mother yelling at him about how that's not where the chair belonged and how he needed to ask before moving things. He sat there calmly, repeating that he had wanted a place to sit and was going to return it when he was done with it.

Anyway, back to the story in chronological order; his mother sent him away. This was quite shocking to me, as the night before I'd hugged him goodnight and he'd been right there. Suddenly, I deeply regretted not trying to kiss him. I wondered if I'd completely missed my chance, if I would ever see him again.

When he got to his father's house, we began communicating again. We IM'd and messaged each other frequently, and I found myself trusting him and falling deeper and deeper in love. The only problem was that I incessantly flirted with him; had he been anyone else, he would have ended up seeing me as another sex toy like everyone else. I was just so used to getting guys that way, thinking that the only side they would really be interested in was the sexual side anyway. He flirted back, but not much. Just enough to get my hopes up but not enough to convince me that he liked me in any way. I hinted at my feelings for him, finally, over a skype IM conversation. He claimed that he only had friendly feelings for me, or something of the sort...I don't recall exactly. Either way, it was deeply disappointing. That is, until about a week later.

He was visiting his cousin, who was around his age, and I thought, well if he only thinks of me as a friend, this could be fun. Alex dyed his hair while he was at his cousin's house; while Alex was busy rinsing away, his cousin took the initiative to tell me that Alex had very deep feelings for me. His cousin also informed me that Alex had never really had feelings for anyone. This would have surprised me, had Alex not already told me that he'd never even kissed anyone. He told me this in the hospital, and I was quite surprised. He seemed far too attractive and, well, PERFECT to not have been even kissed at this point. Anyway, later that night, Alex and his cousin and I had a skype video chat. Both ends got to drinking, and then to stripping. Alex needed more than a little prodding. Luckily, his cousin was on my side. ;D Unfortunately for me, I ended up getting caught. Alex's laptop died right before I was going to...ahem...perform something, and I was sitting on the couch with the ethernet cable stretched as far as it would go waiting for them to get back online. My mother came downstairs, saw the bottles and my lack of clothing, and was not happy, needless to say. I did not get in technical trouble, but my grandmother was not sympathetic to my hangover the next day (my mother used to drop me off at my grandparent's house every morning before work because she didn't trust me to be alone....can't imagine why....). She cracked plenty of jokes and told me what I should be eating/drinking to help it pass. I haven't gotten drunk since; that was my first hangover, I'm VERY heavyweight when it comes to substances, and I hope it will be my last. Anyway, the next night I had a repeat performance with Alex and his cousin, but this time, his cousin went to bed early (and there was no alcohol on my end). Alex ended up telling me that he loved me in his drunken state, and I had never been happier. I was worried that the next morning he would take it back, that he had only said it because I had ******** or because he was drunk. Much to my delighted surprise, he didn't take it back. From that moment on, we were technically "together," I suppose. We never really had a set date for when we began "dating," but we decided to set our anniversary for May 30th, the day we met. 

As the months wore on, Alex and I got closer and closer. Alex began talking about running away, coming back to my state and staying with friends; he had been planning such a thing since his mother sent him to his father's. Homecoming came and went; I tried with everything in me to get him to be able to come to my homecoming dance with me. It didn't end up working out. I tried again to visit him for Thanksgiving and for Christmas; both times, it fell through. My mother did not trust me to visit him. Finally, after Alex dealing with self-mutilation and drug abuse problems, he decided to do something about it.

January 1st, a friend picked him up at around midnight and took him to a nearby Greyhound station. Alex rode the bus for 16 hours until he got to my state. Friends picked him up at the station and he stayed with them for about a week before he could see me. My mother found out that I was planning to sneak him into my house; a foolish plan, it was, but it still seemed so perfect. She agreed to let him see me while he was here and she wouldn't turn him in, but he couldn't stay with us. 

I got to see him that Friday, I believe it was the 8th; my mother picked him up on her way home from work, and he and I went into my room and embraced for a long time. We hadn't seen each other in 6 months; it seemed so surreal that he was finally here, sitting in front of me in my bedroom, more perfect than I remembered him. Well, we weren't watched very closely, and I showed him what he'd been missing out on all those years never having kissed anyone....and more. He had told me before that he'd never kissed anyone because he was shy and nervous, and also because he'd never cared enough to make an effort. I can't say that I saw much of his shyness that night, except perhaps in the first half hour. Finally, after sitting on my bed and making conversation, we fell silent. He looked at me and said, "You can kiss me anytime, you know..." and I did, and it was the best kiss I'd ever tasted. I felt sparks and electricity, but at the same time I felt so calm and relaxed. It was everything that I'd never experienced in a kiss, and I realized that while sex without emotion is all good fun, sex WITH emotion is more than sex; some might call it making love. Some might say there isn't a difference. I don't know what I'd call it, but all I knew was that I'd never experienced anything like it. His body was enveloping me, wrapping around me, warming me on that cold January night. I realized that more than anything else, in his presence, just holding his hand or sitting next to him or feeling the heat of his body against mine during an embrace, he made me feel...at home. That was something that I'd never really felt before. Never in a place, or a person, or a thing, or an activity....nothing. (I would later come to realize before the school year ended that I also felt at home in my school's auditorium, especially when I was the only one there on the stage with the stereo and my dance paws. But on with the story...)

He ended up spending the next night with me because the person who he was supposed to be staying with bailed. My mother was not happy, but she didn't really have much of a choice. She told us that we could hang out in my room, but when he went to sleep he had to go to the guest room. Well, he didn't go to sleep until around 5 in the morning. I kissed him good night and went back upstairs to my room. Instantly, I fell asleep, exhausted. Later that morning, I woke up at around 10 am to Alex quietly entering my room. He got into bed with me and we lay there for who knows how long. I felt so safe in his arms, so comfortable, so warm. Not just physically warm, but like...well, it sounds cheesy saying it, but like my soul was warm.

That night, my mother took him to stay with my grandparents because I had school the next morning and she didn't want me staying up all night with him again. I was deeply displeased with my mother, considering I didn't really care about not getting enough sleep when I hadn't seen my love in 6 months. On that Tuesday, my grandmother picked me up from school and took me to her house. Alex and I went for a walk in the frigid cold. I had a thick hoodie. He had a hoodie thinner than a shirt. He claimed to dislike thick hoodies, and i laughed at his impracticality. We walked to an old, abandoned barn down the long driveway (my grandparents lived in a farm sort of area at the time), and...well, had a roll in the hay, I suppose you could call it, pun intended. xD I was so disappointed when my mother came to pick me up for the night. The next day, I awoke with a bad feeling. I wanted to go with my mother because she was going to go to my grandparent's house and take Alex to see a social worker in hopes that there would be a way he could stay in my state legally. She didn't believe my pleas that I was sick and needed to stay home from school anyway, so I forced myself to throw up for the first (and hopefully last) time in my life. She saw the vomit and grudgingly let me go with her. That day, the social worker called his mother to come pick him up. She was NOT happy. He had already tried calling her to ask if he could live with her again; she said no, and that "If you get that 1X-year old ***** pregnant, I will not be responsible." She's a lovely woman. Of course, she immediately sent him back to his father's, but all was not lost; we had finally seen each other after 6 months of being over 600 miles away. 

He was able to visit for a weekend over his spring break; my mother wouldn't let him stay the whole week because I had school. I didn't understand why she was being like this. She was usually fair and reasonable, but with Alex, she was strict and illogical. Either way, we got to see each other for a few days then.

I was set to visit him for the entire week of my spring break; I had unknowingly agreed earlier in the year to go on an orchestra field trip to a festival in New York. It was a weekend trip, and I didn't know it would coincide with being able to see Alex. I was not pleased. However, I was happy that I could at least see him. 

The first night I was there at his father's house, Alex and I went to the mall and then to a movie. When we got back, he asked his father if he could stay up later to spend time with me even though he had school the next day. His uncle, who lived with them, was being irritable with Alex.

To make a long story short, Alex's uncle pushed him to the point of physical confrontation. Cops were called, Alex taken to a juvenile detention center, all because Alex's uncle was too petty to act like an adult. The rest of my stay there, I spent most of the day alone in my room or out on the porch listening to music. I didn't mind so much; I liked the solitude, but it was torture not knowing what was going on with Alex. 

I was not able to even speak to him for a couple months after that. He was not allowed to make or receive calls. After his court hearing and evaluation, he was placed in a residential treatment center for boys. He has been there since the end of May, and he is hopefully getting discharged soon.

I was ecstatic to be able to talk to him again; the real downer of the situation is, he only get 3 days to call me a week, and he's worked his way up to 15 minutes of conversation. All phone calls are put on speaker phone and monitored by a staff member. The worst part is, I'm not allowed to call him. I have no way of reaching him should I happen to miss his call or just need someone to talk to. You see, Alex, in addition to being my love, is my best friend in the entire world. It feels as though since my communication with him has been limited, my emotions have slowly been draining out of my body. I am numb, until I think about everything and it all comes crashing down. When I'm not numb, I'm lonely. 

During the time that I was not able to talk to him at all, I discovered more so than ever that I could escape my loneliness through dance. I'm not very good; I just completed a dance 1 course in school, and I taught myself most of what I know, but I'm very passionate. I was the best in Dance 1 by far, and I threw myself into it when I couldn't talk to Alex. It took my mind off of everything. The whole world would fade away and there was only the music and my body moving to the tempo. At lunch, I would sneak into the empty auditorium and sit in the back listening to music and stretching. No other physical place had ever felt so much like home as the auditorium did.

But enough about that; the story isn't about my passion for dance. 

Right now, Alex is going to be transferred to a step-down facility soon. His calling nights are Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. He gets 15 minutes, sometimes more if he's lucky. It's difficult, but he's well-worth waiting for. He pulled me out of the darkest point in my life thus far, and he is truly the best person I've ever met. I could never get tired of hearing his voice. Before the incident at spring break, we used to spend hours EVERY night on the phone. We never ran out of things to talk about, though when silence did enter our conversations, it was comfortable. I would worry if I didn't get to talk to him for a day. Spending two months without him was hell, but I dealt. I'm still dealing.

I'm just waiting for when we can finally be together, when we don't have to count down months until we'll see each other again. He's entering his senior year in high school, and I'm entering my sophomore year. I'm hoping that he's out of these group homes soon, so that his calls won't be monitored and I can freely tell him everything I've been longing to say; how much I really missed him, how worried I was, I can tell him about how much I needed him, the things he missed in my life that I wish I could have told him about sooner. 

It's not fair to either of us; the staff at the facility he's at don't even know why he's there. Most of the other boys are there for sexual or anger issues. Compared to the rest, who thrive on confrontation and causing problems, he's so...NORMAL. The place isn't helping him at all. He barely gets to talk to his "counselor." Group therapy is a joke. The whole thing is such a sham. It offers the illusion of help, the facade of treatment, but really it doesn't seem to provide anything.

To sum it up, I miss him terribly. We've been together for over a year now. He's 600+ miles away and I haven't seen him since March. There's nothing either of us can do about the situation, and that's the worst part about it. We don't have any control.

I don't really think I have it that badly; I know some have it much worse. It just really ****** me off when I see people complaining on facebook that they couldn't go on a date with their boyfriend/girlfriend tonight even though they'll be seeing them the next day at school. It's not fair.

That seems to be the central theme of my feelings about the situation;

It isn't fair.

Still, I know there's really not much else I can do except hope that the situation will be over soon and that I can be with him.

I meant to make this experience short and sweet, but I guess I really get typing once I started discussing Alex. He really has done so much for me; he helped me see that I deserved better than being some sex toy. He showed me that I was worth more than I thought, that I am a beautiful person, that I deserve happiness. I wish I could do the same for him. He's the most wonderful person I've ever met, yet he doesn't think so.

It's not fair how the best people never seem to see their own beauty.

It's getting quite late and I'm losing my coherency, so I'll stop here. 

I'm sorry this was so long, but I hope that it gave you hope or inspired you in some way that long-distance relationships CAN work, despite the circumstances that seem to be working against you. Or something like that, I don't know...

I'm not even really sure why I shared this, but I hope somebody finds some sort of comfort in it. Thank you for your time, whoever you are.

My name is Madeleine, and this is my experience with my long-distance relationship. <3
inquisitivewanderer inquisitivewanderer
18-21
Aug 12, 2010