One week ago yesterday, I stood — forlorn and teary-eyed — in Sky Harbor’s careworn and ever-so slightly dilapidated Terminal 2, waving a broken-hearted goodbye to my boyfriend as he navigated the labyrinth that is airport security on his way home to Calgary.
It was the first time we had seen each other since his last three-week visit in February, and was likely to be the last time we would see each other until the three-day weekend we have planned for my birthday in October.
Long distance relationships suck.
Sure, there would be the daily phone calls, the late night Vent conversations, the thrice-weekly raids and the double-paladin alting that passes for dates in our lonely, online existence. But after ten days, not as Sarielle and Keaton, but as Michelle and Jef — ten days of cuddling on the couch while watching Firefly on DvD… ten days of contemplating wine but settling on Mountain Dew and Diet Coke … ten days of romantic dinners and deep-fried artichoke hearts and Sims 3 and Dancing Through Life …
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t go back to Azeroth, where spending an afternoon with the man I love means doing the daily circuit in Icecrown or leading 23 of our closest friends through Ulduar.
Apparently, he couldn’t do it either.
On Tuesday morning, I was back at Terminal 2.
So was Jef.
He proposed in Terminal 2, in the exact spot that we first met last June, and where we’ve both met and said goodbye on every visit since. The cute, sweetly romantic thing is that he didn’t even fly into Terminal 2 this time: he flew into Terminal 4, and took the airport shuttle to Terminal 2 to meet me in our special place.
There, he went down on one knee — in front of everyone — including a little old lady who was pleased to announce she had the entire thing on film! — and made a lovely, heartfelt speech. It took leaving and coming back again to make him realize it, he said, but our proposal shouldn’t be about an expensive dinner or some crazy scheme to slip me a ring. It should be about a real life together, and a real, tangible commitment.
Needless to say, I accepted.
And, lo and behold … it’s soulbound.
* * *
I love you, bear.