Friday, August 23, 2019

Let’s Talk: Summer love

May 15, 2019 by Katy Weicker, staff writer

Like many students, I’m finding my sea legs again after the insanity that was end-of-the-semester mayhem. Finals are done, grades are in, and I’m back in the swing of working full time and having my evenings free from homework—also known as having time to write things that I’m not getting graded on!

In addition to the many upheavals to my own schedule, I’m also, like many students, dealing with massive shifts in the schedule of my partner (who is also a student). For us, this means him embarking on a once-in-a-lifetime travel adventure for over five weeks while I’m here in Victoria living my normal life.

Let’s Talk? is a column exploring women’s rights issues; it’s in every issue of Nexus.

Let the record show: I fully support his decision. And I’m only a little bit jealous that he gets to spend the next month writing travel pieces in a stunningly beautiful location while I have the privilege of working 9 to 5 and baking in an apartment with no airflow, watching Friends at night alone. And, while I may lament, there is actual validity in this statement. Before we started dating, I spent many summers doing this routine, and I find comfort in it. I like being able to binge-watch my guilty-pleasure TV shows (looking at you, Jane the Virgin), eating what I want for dinner without having to discuss it, going for evening coffee with girlfriends.

But with this routine comes the sympathy. I’m not talking about the empathetic checking-in texts from his or my mom, I’m talking about the constant barrage of “OMG, how are you doing?! How are you surviving?!” statements that have replaced the obligatory “How’s school?” conversation openers (I may be paraphrasing here, but you get the idea). When I assure the other person that I’m doing really well, I get a follow-up reassurance: “Hang in there! The time will fly! He’ll be home soon!” And I’m standing there, like, “I understand how time works…”

Again, let the record show: I have a countdown on my phone to the second his flight lands. And yes, after the initial novelty starfish stretch across the bed, I miss his shoulder nook like crazy, but, no, I’m not hyperventilating into a paper bag over his absence (full disclosure: as I write this, we are only on day five of 39, so that may come).

But, for now, every time I get the “How are you?” I feel like an asshole, because I’m kinda loving my little routine. I am an independent woman, and I like my space—again, I reserve the right to change my opinion on this in a few weeks. But I can adult on my own with great success. I don’t want to get all “I don’t need a man” soap-boxy here, but the reality is, yes, I love my partner, yes, I miss him, but I’m not crumbling at the seams without him. And I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

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