Broken Hearted from a Distance

by: Hannah Randolph

Falling in love, and being in love, can be tricky. It gets even worse if you’re 4,000 miles apart from the one you love. Trickier still if you’re not technically dating that person.

While studying in London I truly did not expect a man I dated for two months would leave an impact on my life. When he first messaged me on Tinder that September evening I wasn’t even expecting to meet him, but I did. We dated casually until I had to go back home. I always described our relationship as easy, we got along well and conversation was natural while silences were comfortable. We spent weekends visiting museums and offbeat places around London. We spent evenings in pubs talking about all ranges of topics, from whether animals have souls to quizzing each other on who knew more U.S. states. He was also a writer, so I let him read some of the pieces I was writing for classes. We seemed to fit together naturally, something I hadn’t experienced before.

I still get choked up when I think of him standing on the platform as my train pulled me away to the airport. We wanted to keep in touch after I left, but didn’t set any boundaries or expectations. We thought it seemed premature to label ourselves as a couple. My first week back in the States we texted every day. He had become one of my best friends. As time went on, we continued to text and develop our relationship which, for me, was somewhere between a friendship and a romantic relationship. I told all my friends about him and brought him up often.

I went back and forth thinking I was in love with him and then talking myself out of the feelings, trying to rationalize the situation. I couldn’t possibly love him; my feelings were just strong because I missed being in London so I was putting those feelings onto him. He was someone I relied on. I would text him when I was having a bad day, and just seeing his name on my screen brightened my spirits. My mood related to the amount that we were in contact. I would get upset if I didn’t hear from him.

I thought about him every day, and wished for the days when I wouldn’t. I missed him like crazy. After a long day, I imagined he would come over to my apartment and we would watch Netflix together, just like we had in London.

I felt lonely even when I was surrounded by my friends. I longed for his company and often felt down. Once on a trip to Walmart with my friends I carried a giant stuffed dog around the store with me just so I had something to hold onto, a sort of giant, cute stress ball. I would stay in bed on the weekends thinking of the weekends we had together. I cried often and without warning. My friends tried to help, telling me that in time it would be easier and I wouldn’t miss him as much. My best friend described us in “romantic no man’s land,” and encouraged me to ask him to define our relationship. I said that I would, but always chickened out. Underneath it all, I was afraid he would say he didn’t miss me as much as I missed him. Part of me knew he was doing all right without me.

Things came to a head one weekend in April. I had been trying, and failing, to distract myself. In looking for a way to be less lonely I spent some time with someone else, hoping he would take my mind off the situation. It did completely the opposite. I compared the whole interaction to the man I now couldn’t deny I loved and who was so far away. I felt awful. Finally, I texted him my feelings of loneliness, how I was trying and failing to distract myself and that I loved him. This wasn’t the way I predicted to fall in love with someone -- it really is not convenient in any way. It felt good to let it all out, though, I felt like a pressure cooker finally letting off steam. I suggested I needed a break to let my feelings dissipate. He argued that he didn’t want to stop talking to me, he enjoyed discussing things with me and valued our relationship. But he didn’t return my feelings of love.

It was only a couple days before the realization of accepting that I loved someone and I had no idea when I would see him, and he didn’t feel the same way, really hit me.

I needed to try and get over him and that would only come from not talking to him and letting my feelings die down. I brought up a break again to him, he responded with the message “cold turkey” and went silent. Again, I was thrown into turmoil. I spent mere days thinking I would never hear from him again.

But then one day, a revelation. I figured out how to fix it all. If we just would commit to exclusively see each other I would have a security blanket, I would know where we stood and I wouldn’t be as sad anymore. Obviously it would still be a long-distance relationship and putting the label of “boyfriend and girlfriend” on it would not suddenly make me less lonely, but I convinced myself this would make it all work.

He was rational and made the point that it made no sense to be anything more than friends since we wouldn’t be able to see each other. I knew he was right, and I had gotten what I wanted -- we were no longer in no man’s land. Friendship is something I can handle-I know how to be a friend. Some would say I’m a great friend. Of course, that didn’t mean my feelings suddenly went away and things between us weren’t always purely platonic. Summer began and I went home. There were still down days and loneliness. I watched the movie Notting Hill with my mother. I knew it was risky to watch a movie about an American woman and an Englishman falling in love, but how could Julia Roberts do me wrong? I cried only a little, so I considered that as a sort of win since weeks before I would have been a complete wreck. I found myself feeling better and better.

I had another turning point the week of the Fourth of July. My brother and his girlfriend of six years came to stay with us. For a week I spent most of my time with two people who were very much in love. In everything we did I pictured my guy. We went on a brewery tour and had a great time, but I kept thinking how much better it would have been if he was there with us. Their last day we spent the day in downtown Chicago. We went to a pub to watch England play in the World Cup. He would have fit in perfectly with our group. Later, we met up with my parents on Navy Pier and ate dinner. My meal wasn’t very good, and it was only made worse by the fact that I was growing increasingly more melancholy for no apparent reason.

Then, it was time to order dessert. My parents shared a slice of key lime pie while my brother and his girlfriend shared a slice of cheesecake. That left me all alone. In previous years I would have joked that I was glad I could get a dessert all to myself, but I wanted to share a stupid piece of pie with someone- someone specific. I ordered nothing and excused myself from the table and rushed to find the bathroom before I completely broke down in the middle of that tourist trap. Of course, I couldn’t find the bathroom and instead ended up in the shopping center in the middle of Navy Pier. People scurried all around me as I tried to hold it all in while looking for a quiet place to be alone. Eventually, I managed to make it to a bathroom, but I had to wait in line in order to get into a stall so that I could have my small breakdown. I composed myself and sat on a bench outside on the Pier to calm down. I did return to the table after being away for about 15 minutes. Both the couples had saved a little bit of their desserts for me, which felt like little bits of pity pie. I choked back tears and pushed the desserts away. Without meeting anyone’s eyes I asked if we could go home. I stayed quiet as we drove, staring out the window at the passing lights.

That experience made me realize I was not trying hard enough to move on. By imagining him in my life as a romantic partner I was holding onto my feelings for him. I got tough with myself and when those feelings would come up instead of leaning into them, I would stop myself and change the subject in my own mind. I watched the movie Eat, Pray, Love and again I found myself as a Julia Roberts character. Though the character of Richard delivers the line that has stuck with me. When the main character, Elizabeth, is in India, she is talking with Richard about how she can’t let go of her ex-husband. He tells her, “Send him love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it.” Since adopting this sort of mantra I have seen improvement. Occasionally I still have moments of missing him, but I am ready to move on. It has been a year since we met and we haven’t texted in weeks. I am hopeful that someday we may be able to have some sort of friendship, but for right now it doesn’t seem like it will work out. And I’m actually OK with that.