I have known Mick since I was 17 years old. We met in a forum on deviantart.com. I had questions about music, and being a musician, he had answers. I’m not entirely sure how it all started, can’t remember, but we began talking on MSN all the time. I’d stay up super late, until he woke up, to catch him. I immediately began saving money to go visit him. But we were 17, it never happened. We always did our best to stay in contact, remained good friends. When we were 20, I bought a ticket to go see him. We’d become very dedicated to one another, speaking all day online during the summer. It was just so much fun to talk to him and joke with him, fall for him. We were so excited.
But then, things started to change. He had gone off to university and didn’t have internet in his flat which totally decimated our ability to talk. Then he became more and more unavailable to talk on the phone. I could feel the chasm deepening- as if a continent and an ocean wasn’t enough for us. I’d call and he’d eventually text me, hours later, saying he just “wasn’t able to talk at the time.” I was angry. I felt that he should make time. And then I didn’t hear from him at all for nearly a week. I had to call his mom, who I’d spoken to a couple of times, to make sure he was ok. Of course he was. We finally spoke after she told him he needed to contact me. The minute he answered I knew something was wrong. I will never, ever forget the feeling, the almost audible snap of my heart breaking into pieces. “Do you think a two week visit is too long? What if we don’t get along.” He went down a road I had always hoped and prayed he’d never go down. He said it was going to be too hard, two people our age being in a long distance relationship He didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone he’d only see once or twice a year for a few years. Of course, he was right, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt very much. We had some pretty ugly fights and didn’t talk for quite some time.
Over the next three years we were involved with different people, he had the same girlfriend for most of that time. I was never in a serious relationship with anybody, I liked a few guys and went out a couple times with some. But I’d sit across the table from the nameless few and stare at them. I’d feel a pit in my stomach and find myself thinking about Mick. Why did I feel such a strong connection with a boy I’d never met, and yet this guy looking at me made me feel nothing.
Even though Mick instigated the break up, it wasn’t because he didn’t care. It took me many years to figure this out. Over time I learned that he hadn’t stopped loving me or silently, absentmindedly hoping that we’d make it somehow. He worked pretty hard at trying to keep me in his life, even when I was sure I wanted nothing to do with him. We eventually reached an understanding and were able to be civil to one another. Every time we’d start talking again, I’d get my hopes up, and I hated myself a little bit for it. It was just easier to remain at a safe distance so that I didn’t fall for him all over again. I’d be his friend, but nothing more.
Last fall, we began talking a good bit. He and his girlfriend had been apart for a while, and I was “single as a dollar bill,” as I would jokingly say at the time. Our communication was sporadic, but the most contact we’d had in years. I felt it all resurfacing, and I think he did, too. Then, in late October 2009, he sent me a letter. He had gone on vacation in Europe with his family and confessed to not really being able to think of much other than me. He sent me a bracelet and a photo of a place he’d gone, and said he really wanted to take me there. He said he was really glad he hadn’t lost me completely.
And I immediately realized what an idiot I had been. I had tried really hard to keep him out of my life, and had failed. I had tried really hard to think of him as only a friend, and as I read his letter, I realized, again, I’d failed. I couldn’t really think of him as just a friend. I wrote him back, pouring out the emotions I’d been holding in for three years. I asked him if he still felt the same, and he did.
The next few months I found myself falling in love with him all over again, as much as you can fall for someone you’ve never met. Life seemed to just fall into place, and I was so, so happy he hadn’t let me kick him out completely. In February, on Valentine’s Day, actually, I swallowed my nerve and bought my ticket. I was going to spend two weeks with him in the summer.
Meeting him in the airport was surreal and strange, but not at all awkward or uncomfortable. Sitting next to him in the car on the way back to his house was a bit like the feeling you get in grade school when the teacher makes you sit next to your crush. We got to his house, I showered the nasty travel gunk off myself and we hung out in his room, talking. Within an hour, he hugged me, but nothing more. I could tell he was nervous, and so was I. But I was beyond caring about nerves. I had just flown across the world to meet this guy, and I was finally in his arms. I kissed him, he told me he loved me, and asked me to stay. So I did, for a while month. We fell into a gorgeous, passionate relationship that encompasses everything I’ve ever hoped love could be. He showed me ancient buildings, historical castles, and two more countries. He showed me love and passion and understanding. He showed me what it’s like to be taken care of. He showed me, and I showed him, too, just how great something can be when you wait for it, and work for it.
Even though Mick instigated the break up, it wasn’t because he didn’t care. It took me many years to figure this out. Over time I learned that he hadn’t stopped loving me or silently, absentmindedly hoping that we’d make it somehow. He worked pretty hard at trying to keep me in his life, even when I was sure I wanted nothing to do with him. We eventually reached an understanding and were able to be civil to one another. Every time we’d start talking again, I’d get my hopes up, and I hated myself a little bit for it. It was just easier to remain at a safe distance so that I didn’t fall for him all over again. I’d be his friend, but nothing more.
Last fall, we began talking a good bit. He and his girlfriend had been apart for a while, and I was “single as a dollar bill,” as I would jokingly say at the time. Our communication was sporadic, but the most contact we’d had in years. I felt it all resurfacing, and I think he did, too. Then, in late October 2009, he sent me a letter. He had gone on vacation in Europe with his family and confessed to not really being able to think of much other than me. He sent me a bracelet and a photo of a place he’d gone, and said he really wanted to take me there. He said he was really glad he hadn’t lost me completely.
And I immediately realized what an idiot I had been. I had tried really hard to keep him out of my life, and had failed. I had tried really hard to think of him as only a friend, and as I read his letter, I realized, again, I’d failed. I couldn’t really think of him as just a friend. I wrote him back, pouring out the emotions I’d been holding in for three years. I asked him if he still felt the same, and he did.
The next few months I found myself falling in love with him all over again, as much as you can fall for someone you’ve never met. Life seemed to just fall into place, and I was so, so happy he hadn’t let me kick him out completely. In February, on Valentine’s Day, actually, I swallowed my nerve and bought my ticket. I was going to spend two weeks with him in the summer.
Meeting him in the airport was surreal and strange, but not at all awkward or uncomfortable. Sitting next to him in the car on the way back to his house was a bit like the feeling you get in grade school when the teacher makes you sit next to your crush. We got to his house, I showered the nasty travel gunk off myself and we hung out in his room, talking. Within an hour, he hugged me, but nothing more. I could tell he was nervous, and so was I. But I was beyond caring about nerves. I had just flown across the world to meet this guy, and I was finally in his arms. I kissed him, he told me he loved me, and asked me to stay. So I did, for a while month. We fell into a gorgeous, passionate relationship that encompasses everything I’ve ever hoped love could be. He showed me ancient buildings, historical castles, and two more countries. He showed me love and passion and understanding. He showed me what it’s like to be taken care of. He showed me, and I showed him, too, just how great something can be when you wait for it, and work for it.
On July 25, 2010 I began what would be the hardest thing I have ever done. Harder than controlling a class of hormonal teenagers. Harder than being brave enough to meet a stranger. I got on a plane and left England, left Mick. We were long distance for the absolute worst 5 months of my life. It was so weird- I had spent 23 years without him, and then one month with him. In that month, I forgot how to be myself without him. I forgot how to sleep and eat and be happy. Five months. During which I very nearly broke up with him a few times just because of the sheer stress and pain of being apart. But he wouldn’t let me.
On December 19th, I flew back to England to spend the holidays with him. I was so nervous! I didn’t know if all the anxiety I’d been through, if the time and distance would have changed what we had during the summer. What if it had only been the excitement of meeting for the first time? Maybe that would be gone. As I wandered through the arrival terminal of Gatwick International, I saw him. I didn’t feel any better. He hugged me and kissed me. I still wasn’t sure. But then in about 30 seconds I blinked and it was like the past five months had never happened. I was home, and I was safe.
Mick was able to come back to America with me after Christmas, and so we’ve been together the past 5 and a half months. We’ve learned what it’s like to be a couple together. I’ve shown him as much of America as I’ve been able to with my work schedule. It’s been great.
I love telling our story and reliving all of it. I don’t even mind thinking about the pain so much because then I realize the magic that it all took. Nothing short of the hand of God brought us together, this much I know is true. And as I look down at the ring he placed on my left hand, I can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. About a month ago, Mick asked me to marry him. I of course said yes, and now it’s only a matter of weeks until we move to England where we’re going to spend the rest of our lives.
On December 19th, I flew back to England to spend the holidays with him. I was so nervous! I didn’t know if all the anxiety I’d been through, if the time and distance would have changed what we had during the summer. What if it had only been the excitement of meeting for the first time? Maybe that would be gone. As I wandered through the arrival terminal of Gatwick International, I saw him. I didn’t feel any better. He hugged me and kissed me. I still wasn’t sure. But then in about 30 seconds I blinked and it was like the past five months had never happened. I was home, and I was safe.
Mick was able to come back to America with me after Christmas, and so we’ve been together the past 5 and a half months. We’ve learned what it’s like to be a couple together. I’ve shown him as much of America as I’ve been able to with my work schedule. It’s been great.
I love telling our story and reliving all of it. I don’t even mind thinking about the pain so much because then I realize the magic that it all took. Nothing short of the hand of God brought us together, this much I know is true. And as I look down at the ring he placed on my left hand, I can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. About a month ago, Mick asked me to marry him. I of course said yes, and now it’s only a matter of weeks until we move to England where we’re going to spend the rest of our lives.
Here’s what I want you to take from this. I am not what you would call a lucky girl. I don’t win things, I’m not a knock out, and I’m a bit overweight. Things don’t come easy to me. I don’t turn heads and guys have never beat down my door. But I am who I am and I do the best that I can with that. And for some reason, an amazing guy saw everything he wanted in that, and didn’t give up on me. We had everything against us- odds and logistics. It’s been hard and it hurt, and I know we’re not done yet, but we made it. We made it.
In other newwws! 21 days until I move to England, and 7 more days of school!
The letter Mick sent you that started this whole thing up again would have made Jane Austin swoon. It was so Mr. Darcy of him! It gives me chills just thinking about it! :)
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