By ty dehner
Long distance, I hate those words. There never seems to be anything positive about the two of them. We know it costs money anytime you want to talk to someone on the phone, long distance. Then there is that night you meet a hot guy, a guy that looks fucking awesome in his jeans and football jersey, a guy that grabs you by the neck, spits in your face then slams his tongue down your throat, trapping you in the spell of is blue eyes.
That night that you go back to his hotel room and talk all night, lying in the pair of football pants he allows you to wear that he has sweated in for weeks while working out in the gym. Nothing matters but lying next to him, laying your head on his chest as you listen to him breathing and sharing his life with you. In the morning as you’re driving home, it dawns on you that he isn’t from your city and if you want things to continued, yes, it has to be a long-distance relationship. You see, long distance is never good.
Yea, I was a fool for allowing me to be sucked in, but when you meet the right guy, you must believe don’t you? But damn if the Gods didn’t conspire against us.
