It was ten o’clock when I was driving my boyfriend to the marina in Long Beach. I was trying really, really hard not to cry. But I had good reasoning. He was about to leave for a month to go out to sea.
What's that? Oh, you don't believe that I really have a boyfriend? Why, because he's going "out to sea?" Well, fuck you then!
My boyfriend is a merchant marine. For those of you living in a cave, a merchant marine ships out to sea for a few months at a time. And while they’re on the ship heading to their destination, which usually takes about a week, they have no access to Internet or phones.
It seemed like we were in the middle of nowhere when he told me that we were there and I should pull over. Shit. This was going to be the last time I saw him for about a month. I tried to hold back the tears, even though I knew my eyes were already watering up. Oh well, he’ll probably just think I have something in my eye. Guys are usually oblivious to those kinds of things anyway. But once he got out of the car, I couldn’t help it.
Fuck! I never cry. I could watch the saddest episode of “Grey’s Anatomy” and not shed a tear. I didn’t cry when Denny died. I didn’t cry when George died. And I definitely didn’t cry when Meredith almost died but then didn’t, then kind of did, but then didn't again.
And I never, ever cry over guys. But this time was different. I wasn’t crying over something bad. It was actually something good. Being gone for a month isn’t the worst thing in the world. It’s kind of like … being in a long distance relationship, which is kind of weird, because when my boyfriend is home he lives right upstairs from me.
But I’ve been single for pretty much my entire life. With my job being super crazy right now, working on two scripts simultaneously, and keeping up with the Kardashians, a month seems like a piece of cake.
Pfftt, I got this!!