Not doomed for failure, but it’s very likely

Long-distance relationships don’t always spell doom, but keep in mind that it takes two to tango. It’s basically about communication and being on the same page, but even so, it’s tough.

My first relationship morphed into a long-distance one for a summer; while he was off visiting his folks in London, I was taking summer courses at Reedley College.

It was hard but with constant e-mails and phone calls from across the globe (and despite a few misunderstandings), we made it work. I’d write poetry and he’d send little gifts.

But when he got back in August, things just weren’t the same. He had become belligerent and verbally abusive, but I’d fortunately developed a backbone.

About a year later, my next relationship was much healthier. The distance wasn’t quite so far either, only about 30 miles. It also didn’t hurt that I came back home to Fresno every weekend for a couple of dates before heading back to Reedley on Monday morning.

Then it came time to transfer to a university. I had my heart set on Sonoma State, but my boyfriend was in Fresno, plus it was cheaper to just move back in with my folks, so I chose Fresno State instead.

I eventually came to resent this decision, because it had always been a lifelong goal of mine to ditch Fresno for good. But alas, I was one of those girls who put her relationships ahead of everything else.

Several years later I was dating a dude I’ll call Jim, and I admit, I should have run in the opposite direction.

He hadn’t made a very good impression when he lied about his age, then about the number of chicks he’d slept with.

And there were even more surprises in store.

We’d only been seeing each other for a couple of months when he dropped another bombshell.
“Oh yeah, I’m moving to Reno at the end of the month.”

Neither of us wanted to break up, so we agreed to keep in touch by phone, and I’d come to visit him once he’d gotten settled.

But only a week after his move, he called to fess up about a lap dance at a strip club.
Uh, no thanks, Jim. I’m finished here.

So when my current guy dropped the news that his new job was 300 miles away, it hit me with a wave of déjà vu. My heart sank a bit.

Nevertheless, I started this latest long-distance deal with all the hope in the world, and while it wasn’t at all a repeat of Jim, it quickly became obvious that we lacked the communication skills required to make something like this work.

We ended it last week, less than two months after he moved.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the road to not-quite hell is paved with my good intentions, and that despite the odds, I’ve always been willing to give long-distance a shot, though I’m increasingly weary.

I know they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but my grandmother had her own version.

She used to say that absence makes the heart forget.

And these days, I must say, I’m inclined to agree.