It All Started With A Wedding

So I just returned from a wedding, held at the Heritage Centre here in my town. I don't know the groom, but I do know the bride: she was a former co-worker of mine. It was a nice wedding.

It was a Christian ceremony, which always makes me feel more comfortable. The place was beautifully decorated, the ceremony was short so that they could get on with the food and partying. The food was good, and the bride was, of course, gorgeous. And now I am sitting at home, and I am sad.

One shouldn't feel sad after a wedding, but I do. Maybe it's because I can't say that I had tons of fun. I knew a few people there, but not very well. Maybe it's because I only used to work with the bride, but I quit that job over two months ago, so I didn't feel that connected anymore. Or maybe it's because I miss Art.

For those of you who don't know, I'm NOT lamenting over an ex-boyfriend, or a deceased person. Nothing of the sort. Art is my (very much alive) boyfriend of 8 months (tomorrow, in fact), and I love him very very very very (etc., etc.) much. We certainly don't have any intentions of ever NOT being a couple.

But our relationship is a bit different than most, and certainly not the way we would have it if we could change it in the blink of an eye. I live here, on the prairies, in the middle of Canada. Art lives by the ocean, on the west coast of the United States. We met at Bible College last year, and at some point in the future I will detail our story on here. But the point is that he is so far away.

When I'm at weddings, all I can ever think about is: "I can't wait for my turn to come." And on this particular occasion, my thoughts were, well, jealous thoughts. Jealous that my friend beside me could attend this wedding with her boyfriend, and that they would be able to dance together. Romance was in the air, and I was alone. I'm not single, but I was still alone.

If any single person is reading this, you are probably thinking, "Well at least you have a boyfriend." Yes, you are absolutely correct. I do have a boyfriend; I love having a boyfriend; I love Art, I am crazy about him, and I want to keep him. Forever. He is so much a part of me, that now I understand the phrase "my other half." Art is my other half.

But can you imagine being one thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-eight miles apart from half of yourself? It's difficult. And if it sounds like I'm complaining, let me just clarify that he is TOTALLY worth it. But it's still difficult. On every one of our monthly anniversaries, I hope that our schedules will line up so we can talk on the phone. On Valentine's Day, I had a date.

My date looked like this:

(I talked to Art on the phone)

My date took place here:

(my bedroom)

At midnight on New Year's, I had to imagine a kiss. And at this wedding today, I simply wished he had been sitting beside me, and looking at me, and telling me that I looked beautiful. (Instead, I had a big, bald, bearded guy sitting beside me, telling me that he hoped there would be alcohol later on).

Despite all of these slightly sad thoughts, I still have this to say: Art, I love you so much. You are the most incredible man in the world, and you amaze me even more because you actually want to put up with me for the rest of your life, and you are willing to endure the distance until we can be together. Forever.