When you think your long distance lover's mind may be elsewhere--and his or her mind is often the least of your concerns at this point--then you spend most of your time convincing yourself that you are still numero uno.
Then you wait by the phone until the next call comes. And when it does, you feel guilty again--this time for merely presuming any infidelity.
You have a wonderful conversation--at late-night rates, to boot. Finally, everything is peachy keen, until you hang up. Then the cycle begins anew.
SO WHAT is the solution?
Decide if it's really worth it. Do you really need to suffer the guilt, the angst and the deprivation that a long-distance relationship entails? Are you really really in love, like I-want-to-get-married love?
Then you might be stuck. Join a support group and steal a PAC code.
But maybe your relationship is nice, but not great. Maybe it's convenient to maintain, but not really worth all the aggravation. Maybe you're just a first-year--or even worse, an upperclass student--just lugging around an old high school flame like a tired old security blanket.
Then make that last long-distance call, friend. Find a nice Harvard mate--for interested females, I can suggest a delightful sophomore social studies concentrator with a single in the quad who sharcs your disillusionment with long-distance amours. (Dunster and Mather residents need not call.)
Or disregard my advice. Keep that relationship going. Forget love. Forget romance. Forget sex.
Let's talk guilt. Let's talk insecurity. Let's talk emotional bondage.
Let's talk bitter.
SHE calls two nights ago for the first time this year.
She is just fine, having fun at college, liking her sorority.
How am I, she asks. Just fine, having fun at college, liking my tutorial, I answer.
That's good, she says. She wants to know if I have the number of a mutual high school friend.
I do. I give it to her.
Thanks, she says. See ya. We hang up.
No, I'm not bitter.
After all, it was on her bill.
Kenneth A. Katz '93 has a $500 limit on his PAC account.