100 miles.

That’s all it is.  And 100 miles isn’t even that far.  But not here is not here.  And not here really, really sucks sometimes.

As girls we grow up on the fairytale idea of being swept off our feet against all odds and living happily ever after.  And then we get a little older and all of a sudden we’re being taught that fairy tales don’t exist and all guys are mean and YA MIGHT AS WELL NOT EVEN TRY because you’re just going to get your heart broken.  In most cases, this is probably true.  We’ve all had our hearts broken, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have a fairy tale ending.  When I met him I was just about the least hopeful person you could find if you were looking for someone to tell you that they’re not all the same.  I even TOLD him that they were all the same.  He told me I was wrong and that he would prove it.  Believe it or not (but really try to believe it!) he has.  And he continues to even now from 100 miles away.

100 really isn’t a big number.  100 pennies make a dollar…and you can’t even buy a good song off of iTunes for a dollar nowadays.  100 calories make like, one bite of Ben & Jerry’s…and who really has the self control to eat one bite of Ben and Jerry’s?  But 100 miles feel like A MILLION when he’s the last thing you think about at night and the first thing you think about in the morning.  I’m fully aware of how pathetic this sounds.  I’m fully aware of all of the girls whose boys are thousands of miles away, and I’m fully aware of all the girls who stopped reading this at “that doesn’t mean that we can’t have a fairy tale ending.”  I can’t complain, because all that lies between me and the love of my life is 100 miles of dimly lit pavement and chopped up yellow lines.  There are curves and bumps all along this pavement, but most of it is straight.  And most of the 100 miles are the kind where you can turn up the music and jam out, regardless of the people next to you staring.  

The curves really suck.  The couples holding hands on campus or cuddling up next to each other in class that really just make you want to stab yourself in the eye with your pen…the times where every song on the radio reminds you of him and you just can’t watch House Hunters because you’re used to watching it with him…those are the curves.

But the straightaways are what keep you going.  The random phone calls just to ask what you’re doing, or the overnight visits (that seem to only last 5 seconds)…the pictures on the wall or the warmth of his football sweatshirt on a fall day…those are the straightaways.  They may be short lived and it may seem like there are a lot more curves than straightaways but when you think about it, there really aren’t.  Most of the time, you can even leave your cruise control on when you go around the curves.  You just gotta keep going.  Or else you’re gunna get rear ended or something…which would suck.

They’re not all the same.  I know you girls who think they are.  I was one of you.  Let them try to change your mind…don’t let the distance scare you.  Be wary of the curves but always, always be thankful for the straightaways.


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