Greg and I are getting married next summer, and by that time, we will have been long-distance for more than three years. But even getting married won’t guarantee that we can live together, as school and work tie us to our respective states for the foreseeable future. I work full-time in higher education and am also getting a Master’s degree in Boston. Greg works full-time in healthcare and is pursuing a Ph.D. in Connecticut. I won’t finish my degree until December of 2017, and Greg won’t end him until December 2018. So, we’re both permanently stuck for the foreseeable future.
Our arrangement is by no means comfortable, and the thrill of finally getting to see Greg after a long week is frequently quickly stamped out by sitting in traffic on the Mass Pike. After more than two hours in traffic, I’m grumpy, tired, and hungry.
“I’m not driving anywhere for the rest of the weekend!” I declare angrily.
“Was traffic really that bad?” Greg asks.
“Yes,” I say curtly. “I’m so sick of sitting in traffic. I wanted to be here for dinner and obviously that didn’t happen.” I glare at the clock on the microwave, which reads 8:37 in the glowing green light.
Greg wraps me in a hug, and eventually, my anger begins to melt away.