Long Distance

We’d been waiting so long for it.

I knew him better than I’d ever known anyone,

But I’d never met him.

We were a couple of magnetic forces

From opposite ends of the Earth.

Three years charged up with teenage yearning,

In which each of us mentally unclothed the other;

Imagining ideal beauty

But hoping for flaws

To lessen the blow;

To soften our own imperfections.

I chewed my Wrigley’s into a tasteless hard glob on the car ride to the airport.

As I began my long wait I took a sip of water, cold against my minted tongue.

I sat, then stood back up,

jittery,

As my brain let loose the butterflies in my tummy-cage:

What if he’s sick from the flight?

What if he doesn’t recognize me?

What if I’m secretly hideous?

What if I’m disappointing?

Will he still like me in person?

I waited and waited and waited, too anxious to sit,

Eyes glued desperately to the sky above the runway.

Then it landed.

My heart thumped so loudly as he walked off that plane.

Fuck...

He’s even more gorgeous than he looked in the picture.

Oh god, and all I have to give him is this pudgey mole-blemished body?

These sweaty hands?

This flushed-red face?

These dry lips?

Panicky,

My fingers fumbled for the possibility of lip balm in my duffle bag

As I followed his movements unblinkingly,

And I tried in vain to convince my heart rate to slow down a little:

It doesn’t matter really does it?

We fell in love with minds, not bodies.

Then he saw me!

His eyes widened (is that good or bad?!) in recognition as I waved at him through the glass.

As soon as he cleared the security gate he ran up to me and gave me a clumsy hug and kissed my cheek bashfully as if he didn’t have permission for anything more vulgar.

He’s not as tall as I thought. Thank god!

I grinned in abject adoration as I clasped his hand (just as sweaty as my own) and kissed his cheek right back, surprised at how prickly his modest stubble growth was against my (dryness forgotten) lips.