Complicated is the New Black

Scott was perfect.

Adorable. Sweet. Funny. Nice. Socially graceful.
Gainfully employed. Lovely home. Beautiful cars. Boat.
Healthy and active – ice hockey, snowboarding, rollerblading, etc.
Just as attractive as he ever was to me, only now not in a Sweet 16 way. At this age, I value his maturity, his sensitivity, his sense of responsibility, his attentiveness, his values, his self respect and his kindness toward other people. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes.
He’s a really good guy.

And he lives 80 miles away in a neighboring state.

Like I said: Perfect.

Or not.

I am finding that 80 miles is a few too many. Maybe 40 would have done the trick. 40 miles might dissuade you from popping by unannounced to find the doors locked and the lights out because I went to the mall right after work and did some damage in the shoe department at Bloomingdales. 40 miles makes you call first. 40 miles makes you plan ahead.

80 miles just overdoes it. 80 miles is prohibitive. 80 miles makes you make reservations. 80 miles makes you pack a bag and fill up your gas tank. 80 miles is really a long way to go on a lark.

So much for spontaneity.

But 80 miles is apparently not too big a chasm to bridge when there is a will and one’s heart’s desire.

So we decide to work it out. It will take some trust and understanding. And gas money.

What about Fidelity?

Too soon to talk about, but I have a theory about that.

I make no assumptions. I do not ever say “I am seeing you exclusively and expect the same thing from you, so that’s the deal, Neal.” If I want to see you exclusively and forsake all others, even to my own detriment and my own heart’s peril, that is my foolish or not so foolish decision to make and has no impact on your decision to share the same devotion with me.

And my thinking is, if I am not attractive, interesting, intelligent, funny, fun-loving, or whatever enough to hold your attention, and you want the company of other people, that is hardly your fault. That is either my fault for being a drag, or we are not perfectly suited for one another. Not the end of the world. Just be honest about it. No one is going to go running off to boil your bunny a la Fatal Attraction if you see other people. And I am not likely to go standing on my head and whistling show tunes to get your attention, so it will all work itself out eventually.

As for availability, that is tricky. Our custody arrangements do not mesh well. We’ll have to get creative. And I still want time with my friends – the friends who have had the patience of so many saints for decades now. I want my girl time. And I don’t want to feel guilty about taking it. So I explain the perils of clinginess to Scott. He totally gets it. Go out. Have fun. Come home safe and tell him stories. Perfect. And I will give him the same harassment-free space. And no one will text the other 800 times an hour while we are apart. Deal.

And then there is the inconvenience of our careers. Enough said. Life would be so simple if no one had to work.

So what we’ll do is try not to get caught up in routines. Routines set expectations. At some point someone is going to want to break with tradition and a long held routine puts you in a position to disappoint or offend the other person. Someone’s feelings are likely to be hurt. So we’ll keep it fresh. Simple. Every week is new. A new plan. A new adventure. A new experience. Both of us have too many plates in the air to overcommit to anyone or anything else. We’ll plan to see each other when we can. And in the mean time, we’ll live our lives.

And this, will become the new normal. Hopefully love can bloom and grow in the rocky pit of sand we've attempted to plant it in.