Oh, the perils of  distance love

If your alleged partner is far enough away that you need a visa to go see them, consider the fact that you might actually just be single. PHOTO| FILE| NATION MEDIA GROUP

What you need to know:

  • I really don’t understand lost-distance relationships or the people who get into them.
  • It’s like going to tweeze your eyebrows. I hear it’s painful. If God was generous enough to give you eyebrows that look like caterpillars, then who are you to tamper with His work?
  • You don’t see matatu drivers going for a brain transplant, do you? Anyway, long distance just seems like something you call upon yourself.

I should probably start this article with a disclaimer: If you are in a long distance relationship please stop reading this now. Read something fun, like Rupi Mangat at the back. She’s probably written about birds today.

Rupi likes birds. That will cheer you up. By long distance relationship I don’t mean you are here and they are in Kisii. Or Kampala. I mean really long; somewhere you can’t take a bus to. Or a train. A place where people don’t know what ‘chapo’ is (though I suspect some folk in Runda don’t know what that is).

I really don’t understand lost-distance relationships or the people who get into them. It’s like going to tweeze your eyebrows. I hear it’s painful. If God was generous enough to give you eyebrows that look like caterpillars, then who are you to tamper with His work? You don’t see matatu drivers going for a brain transplant, do you? Anyway, long distance just seems like something you call upon yourself. Because she’s all the way over there in Lithuania, constantly WhatsApping you pictures of her food – capelinai and boletus – or her wintry selfies against the background of ghoulish trees without leaves, offering a withered brave smile watered down by the cold European wind.

She went to further her studies in surgery or agriculture because she’s ambitious and she wants to change the world. And you. Before she left you swore to each other that your love was bigger than the oceans and bridges and small airports between you two. That you would overcome. Then she left, got swallowed in the belly of a big plane and into the sky yonder. You were left behind with pictures of her on your phone and the smell of her perfume when she hugged you.

YOKE OF LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS

I know a few people who are labouring under the yoke of long distance relationships and I’m charmed and horrified by the sheer stoicism of it all. The whole relationship hangs on a slim thread of technology and an even thinner thread of promise. They WhatsApp constantly. They rush home to FaceTime or Skype. They send pictures of themselves. They make it as normal as they can in those grim circumstances. Some have phone-sex, a concept I have never really wrapped my head around. I feel cold just thinking about it. Love is ideally masochism turned inside out.

Of course the novelty starts to wear off after a while. Life intrudes. Reality shows its jagged edges. They hang on, like lovers in the rain huddling under one leaking umbrella. Some make it, and I’m happy for them. Most don’t, and I’m also happy for their freedom.

Unless you are married to someone leaving the country for a few years I think it’s foolhardy to sit around waiting for someone for three years, especially if you are in your 20’s. If you are 25 years old and you are in the house on Friday night because your long distance lover is uncomfortable when you are out partying then you are the butt of a joke. You are wasting your good years standing on quicksand. It’s unfair to keep another human being waiting like that.

The worst part of these relationships is when the other person comes back after three years and you sit with them and you don’t recognise them – or what they have done to their hair – anymore. They don’t even speak like they did on FaceTime. Their shoulder bones are sharper. Their jokes are as exciting as old bananas. Plus they keep saying dumb things like, “Do they have aircon here?”

You have also changed. Everybody changes. First, your BMI is worrisome. They also can’t understand why you still have the same friends, some who still drink the whole weekend. (“It’s a little something we call ‘loyalty’ back here!” you mumble). She can’t stand your jokes either. Your conversations are out of rhythm. She doesn’t say it but she looks at you like you should have amounted to more. You know this because, with a fake smile, she says things like, “So, what is your next career move, anyway?” These are questions she should have asked you on Skype; instead all she wanted you to do is dirty dance for her in your blue boxers. Oh, now she wants to know your short-term plan? And when you finally get intimate (after her two-week jetlag) it feels strange, rehearsed, and it doesn’t help that she can’t stop talking through it, asking you suspiciously, “Oh, where did we learn that?”

BOTH CHANGED

You have both changed. That’s the truth. People change right here before you; now imagine when they move to Estonia and come back with a bad hat habit? Here is what I think should happen: If someone I liked and was not married to was to leave for a few years I would convince them that the three years would be a great litmus test for everybody.

They can date out there if they meet someone. I can date out here. When they come back we can see if the chemistry is still there. That way nobody keeps their lives on hold for a promise they made when the airline announced the last passenger call.