Firstly, now that I’m not so much dating as actually in a relationship, my blogging has become less frequent. Mostly because I’m kind of boring now. I’m all in love with my beau and happy, and being in a relationship just isn’t as funny or entertaining or interesting as dating is. So, apologies to all my readers for having become such a bore.
I just got back from a weekend trip to Ottawa to visit my beau. I hadn’t seen him in a month and I was dying to see him. I’d been counting down the days since I’d booked the flight. And then, of course, two days before my scheduled flight, I got wind (ha, I’m so punny) of an impending storm. One that was supposed to commence late the night before my flight and continue on into the morning of the day I was scheduled to fly down. I just knew that this bitch of a storm was going to get in the way of my seeing my guy. I knew it. Because I’m fairly certain winter hates me as much as I hate winter.
And lo and behold – 12 whole hours before my scheduled flight, before that stupid fucking storm even started, I received an email notification that my flight had been cancelled. I was at work, but there was absolutely no way that anything was going to stop me from seeing my boyfriend (I just started calling him that… it feels weird), so I stepped away from my desk and made a phone call to the airline. I was pretty distraught thinking that my plans were being derailed, so sorry Air Canada dude who answered my call for being so short with you. Love does crazy things to a girl. Anyhow, it got sorted, and I got on the very next flight out, and all was (relatively) well again. Though I was pretty annoyed that I lost three whole hours of my weekend with my love. Seriously. Crazy in love. Can’t get enough of this guy.
I hadn’t packed because I worked until 11 that night, so I spent my night packing and baking delicious treats to take to my love and his family (you know, win their hearts, one cinnamon roll at a time). Finally, it was time to head to the airport (by which time it had actually started snowing). I had to drag my suitcases through snow drifts up to my thighs while the unhelpful taxi driver watched from the warmth of his vehicle. But I didn’t care (too much). I was on my way to see my love.
Finally, after five hours of traveling, I landed in Ottawa and embraced R (also known as The Boyfriend). I couldn’t stop smiling. A month is a really long time to be apart from someone you love so much. We proceeded to spend a brilliant weekend together. He seems to really know me – he planned outings to all of my favourite things. We went to view a mulitcultural art exhibit by Norlan Vilchez; he took me to the Canadian Museum of Civilization; we stopped to speak with protestors; and we had breakfast at Cora’s. We were going to skate the Rideau Canal, but it had been too warm and it was closed to the public. We went dancing at a nightclub, and Drunk in Love came on and it was perfect and I was blissful.
See, I’m boring now.
Nothing funny transpired. Nothing amusing. Just normal, everyday people-in-love type things occurred. But I’m okay with that. I had been somewhat uncertain about the state of our relationship before this trip. We never did officially say “let’s be a couple”. It kind of just happened. So we don’t have any real anniversary. And I wasn’t sure (aside from the fact that we’d started saying “I love you”) that we were at all official even. But then last weekend in conversing with people he kept referring to me as his girlfriend. So I guess we’re no longer unofficially official and are instead just plain official, now.
And now I’m counting down the days until I’ll see him again. Long distance is much harder to do when I am actually into a guy. This is my third LDR in a row, and it’s the first time I’ve really cared much about the distance.
Oh, and I’ve met his mom. She kind of terrifies me. Hopefully my cinnamon rolls placated her. His daughters certainly enjoyed them.