September:
You saw him in person! In-person communication is far superior to the telephone. Benjamin Franklin wasn’t that much of a revolutionary- the written letter was more romantic, not that he sends those either. But it’s okay, he DMs you memes on Instagram. His tailored humor reveals how much he really gets you.
October:
He’s giving you space while you embark on your European backpacking adventure! For at least a week, you’re glad you don’t hear from him. You appreciate the opportunity to present yourself wholly to each moment, relationship struggles be darned. But wait, wouldn’t he LOVE to hear about the docile highland cows whose ears you scritched just so? The pleasant abundance of croissants you’ve eaten, and accidental Scottish Dad you’ve acquired? But wait, he didn’t call on your three-week trip last year either. You’ll still give him the benefit of the doubt. You call him instead. Twice. Three times. Eventually some ounce of self-respecting sense kicks in and you give him the ultimatum: Dial the phone, or no more picture requests of sexy mountain butt. And the motherfucker stops asking for the nudes. The motherfucker never calls.
November:
He’s traveling for work and it’s the first time in months that he’s out of his cage! He still texts (and drinks a lot) which is how you know that the poor thing came down with a death cough. He can barely get through his zoom meetings, let alone spare limited esophageal function on the girl he loves. This time, you don’t remind him to call. Realizing the futility in the dreams you had of a holiday reunion, you move to Colorado.
December:
When asked directly, he still has a sore throat. He called you at midnight on your birthday, though. Actually, it was 10pm your time but you still admire the effort. Level-minded individuals in your life tell you, “this is just how these men are! Out of sight out of mind!” And you think, the trouble is, I can understand why entire countries go to war (on both sides), but the way I love does not match this other form of loving.