Separation Sucks

I am *really* starting to hate this living in 2 different states in 2 different time zones thing.

Paul and I have been living like this for the past 4 and a half months. And in many ways, I've settled into a routine without him. I'm used to spending my evenings at home by myself. I can't remember the last time I cooked dinner and I go and do whatever I want without answering to anyone.

And I definitely joke about being alone. I told a friend recently that I am living the perfect setup. I'm on my own but I don't have the hassle of trying to find a man. I can go out with my friends, but I have a ring on, so there's no pressure to find someone. And I don't need to feel guilty about leaving someone behind at home, because I go home to myself.

When Paul is home, we are so busy and running constantly for every second that he's here. So when he goes back to Boulder, I sigh a little and get back into my more *normal* routine of aloneness.

But this separation? It sucks.

Clearly the big and obvious stuff I miss. I miss that we aren't eating dinner tonight every night, that we can't plan the wedding in the same city (picture messaging and Skype don't always cut it), and that at the end of a bad day, there's no one there to snuggle up with to make it better.

I hate that our entire relationship is based on the phone. And convenient time to talk to each other. I think that due to this separation, our communication has become better than ever. But most of the nights, I struggle with it because one of us isn't at home or with someone else and has to cut the call short. Or there's just not much to say. But it doesn't feel right only talk to the one you're going to marry in less than 9 months for only 5 minutes.

More than anything, I miss the little things. Sunday night relaxing. Having someone else to grocery shop with. Making dinner with someone else. Having your best friend meet you at happy hour for some drinks. Holding hands while walking up the driveway. Seeing someone laugh at your jokes in person. Hugs.

I think some of this suckiness is coming from the fact that I just spent the night with two friends who are so crazy happy to be married to each other. It's been 2 and half years and they are loving life together. They still hold hands and seem genuinely happy to have found each other.

And I'm sitting in my spare room typing on a blog at midnight on a Saturday.

Also compounding the loneliness? I just turned my engagement ring over to a jeweler to have it fixed...again. Why you ask? Well let me explain.

When you go to school to become a mechanical engineer, at some point (I think it's during the Junior year) there's a ceremony where you get a ring to put on your dominant hand's pinky finger. This is to remind you to do your best (or something like that - much like the doctor's oath to first do no harm). Years ago (wow - we've been together for long enough that I can say years ago), I found Paul's ring and started wearing it. It was special to me and kind of felt like I was wearing his high school pin. Dorky? Yes. Do I care? No.

Anyways, I wore this ring on my right hand middle finger and it was still huge on me. But in the process of buying my engagement ring, Paul guesstimated that my fingers were the same size as his pinky and bought my ring near that size. His pinky is a size 7. My ring finger is a 4 3/4.

Due to the large discrepancy, the ring had to be resized in a major way. We took it to a local jeweler that we both have been going to for years. All of their jewelry is beautiful and nicely made. We *thought* we could trust them.

$100 and 3 days later, my ring was back and looked like a complete disaster. The side baguettes were different heights and the setting looked different. It just didn't look like the ring I had dropped off earlier. Instead of saying something, I just wore it and we both got angry about the fact that my ring was f'ed up.

Now, it's 7 months later and my ring isn't right and I want to get it fixed. So I visited my friends last night and they are the people who hooked Paul up with my ring. They took me to the guy who puts everything together for them and he said that more than likely we're going to have to completely rebuild my ring. Lovely. So I left it with him and in 7-10 days, I should have a ring back.

I'm happy about it being fixed.

I'm unhappy about having a bare finger for the next 2 weeks. Especially because I'm going to Boulder to visit Paul next Thursday. He is aware that I am without my bling and that it isn't lost, but being worked on.

So in that long rambling story, seeing a naked finger just reminds me that I'm alone here. And he's alone there.

Separation sucks.