Patience Eating Me Alive

I am not patient. I am probably the most impatient person I've ever known personally. If I just spent 2 hours picking out books at Barnes and Noble, and then see a long checkout line, I will leave the store. If I have to stop for gas on the way to an event, I will honestly become furiously angry at having to stop. If I want something done that depends on ANYONE else, and they are not moving at light speed, you can be certain I will soon just take over and complete whatever it is they were doing so damn slow. Yes, this is me, completely, utterly, totally impatient. So, tell me, how is it I have become involved in a romantic relationship that is alllllllllll about patience on my end???


Mr. Magical, man of my dreams, keeper of my whole heart, star cross'd piece of perfection that he is, has a lifestyle that forces infinite amounts of patience upon me. When I first met him, he left my town 2 days later and I had to wait ELEVEN days until he called me again (I don't call boys, I'm old school, I've read He's Just Not That Into You). The next time I saw him he came into my town during a snowstorm that caused his plane to delay an entire day and his drive in to be slowed by about 4 hours. After our first amazing 3-day time span together out of town, I had to wait a week until I could fly out to spend the holidays with him. Then I got the amazing gift of a seven-month separation via thouands of miles and an 11.5 hour time difference. Yes, you heard me, it's been SEVEN months since I have seen this man's face or he's walked on US soil. And I've been patient.


To me, being patient feels like being tortured for days and days and hours and hours and minutes and minutes in the worst way imaginable. It's not a skill I can seem to learn, because while I am actively waiting, I am not doing this is some graceful manner. To him, I'm a saint who is amazing and strong and busy and funny and supportive at all times. To everyone who is seeing the true story, I'm a freaking wreck!!! I'm unable to sleep, I am annoyed and irritable half the time, I'm constantly panicked that things will not work when he is finally back, and I'm in a general state of emotional disarray at all times. I hate it! I hate being patient! I hate waiting for things to work out! I hate waiting and seeing what will happen! I hate putting in this time for delayed gratification! I come from a generation of instant gratification damn it! With a click of a button or a dial on my cell phone, there isn't ANYTHING I cannot get from our world. Except him.


I think of bailing and upturning this whole thing sometimes and inevitably on those days I get a phone call from this farway land and hear that voice say, "Hey," and I'm back in the boat 200%. While we haven't made this commitment completely formal and exclusive and sealed up, I have gone on a lot of dates. I've liked some boys. But nothing compares. So I wait. I put on that stupid patience hat and I keep that light on for when he's finally home. The thing is, once he's home, my patience doesn't end. He needs time to settle back, he needs time to re-align his life and himself, and even after that and I am in front of him, we both know that call to take him away again could come. And there I'll be, waiting. All-in-all I'd say this was never my plan, but like all things, it came and I went for it, only to consider what I've gotten myself into this time after I'm in deep. I just hope this patience has a pay-out somewhere, SOON, because frankly, I'm really impatient.