For those of you who may be unaware, my other half has been gone since May 1st.  He has a job down south that keeps him away for the 4 months of summer.  Sometimes I go with him, other times I say "No freakin' way am I going back there ever again!"  Then I make him feel guilty for "leaving me behind".

I know, that's really girly of me but I never pretended to be a full time tomboy.

So as with all long distance relationships, which I don't really consider us to be, we're more of a "What? I get 4 months to myself and no nagging?" kind of couple (we see the positive in everything), all communications are via cell phone.

Have I ever mentioned here just how much I hate phone "conversations"?  We all know there's rarely any conversing going on, it's usually one person who won't shut up and another person trying to make excuses.  I come from the school of short-and-sweet.  Who is this? Why did you call? My response. End conversation.  Unless you're my mom, oh the poor woman, she has the patience of Buddha when I call her.

The boy is actually pretty good about understanding my loathing of the phone.  He usually keeps it short unless I've decided to go off on some tirade about nothing important or to tease him with all the great shows I've been watching and he can't because he doesn't have cable down there and "Gee, I'll try to keep it on the Tivo until you return." *delete*

But Saturdays, they're my penance for being the impatient girlfriend that I am.  Saturdays are his day off. Saturdays, he gets his drink on.  We'll usually start the day with a quick call telling each other what we're up to and how we plan to spend the day. Then maybe another call or text just to say hello, but by the end of the day?  It's all over and I am given the ultimate test of my patience.  How many slurred stories with minute long pauses can I endure before my patience runs out?

When I really think about it, If I was dating me, every day might be Drunk Dial Day and to be honest, half of the time I'm convinced he's just messing with me.  He knows he gets real "southern" when he drinks.  Me being a born and bred New Englander, well, you know how we can be.  Have you ever heard a conversation between a true blue yankee (just to be clear, Let's Go Mets) and a stereotypical southerner?  It's kinda like someone keeps playing with the fast forward and slow-mo buttons during a wrestling match.

So a typical Saturday conversation where I genuinely give it my all to listen:

Me: "Hey hon, did you have a good day?"

Him: ".........................Yeah!"

Me: "Awesome, what did you do?"

Him: "........I floated around...............around in the water."

Me: "Cool!"

Him:"............................................."

Me: "Hello?"

Him: "Yeah, yeah.....I'm here................................................"

Me: "Anything else?"

Him: "Nope, that's about it........................................"

Me: "Oh, okay, well I..."

Him: "Except for the crab incident........................"

Me: "............................"

Him: "........................"

Me: " Crab incide...."

Him: "Yeah, crabs..."

And so on. No seriously.

With all that having been said, the most important thing you need to know is how much I do love the boy.  He's about the only one willing to put up with me and the only person I've ever been willing to test my patience with....for now.