Long Distance in a Long Pandemic

Boston and I have been dating a little over three months now, although it feels like longer. Originally, he was supposed to have visited 2 weeks ago, but due to the predicted surge in COVID-19 infections, we decided that it was better to delay the trip. Fast forward to this month. The original plan was that he would fly here and then we would fly to Boston together so I would meet some of his family, but, of course as things do in a pandemic, plans changed. Our flights were cancelled by JetBlue. It was too dangerous to have a family gathering, and, although we'd be social distancing, most likely we would just be cooped up in his tiny Boston apartment. We decided to extend his trip here instead. 

Now, instead of a 2-week stay here and me flying up to Boston afterwards, he will be staying with me for 3 weeks. Then, I'll fly up for July 4 weekend, even though nothing is probably happening in Boston by then. I'm hoping that my firm keeps us working remotely through that time so I can have a longer stay in Boston with him. One of the very few benefits of the pandemic is being able to have more freedom over my personal time by working remotely. 

I hope that, when things return to normal, my boss allows me to work remotely more often so I can spend more time with Boston. I'll float this idea to my boss when he's in a good mood, and hopefully he will be receptive to it since I've maintained my productivity. Of course, I won't mention Boston at all. The last thing I want is for my relationship to be weaponized against me by the firm. I've seen other employees' personal activities be weaponized against them. I've learned quickly that the less your co-workers know about you, the better. A workplace is not a family. 

The idea of having him stay with me for 3 weeks is both exciting and terrifying. It's exciting because we'll get to know each other better during that time, since this is probably going to be the closest thing to living together that we'll have before we actually live together. It's terrifying for the exact same reason. He's going to see every habit I have, and I can't masquerade it for a weekend. It will be full-blown, uncensored, me. I've been trying to get my apartment as decluttered as possible. To that end, I dropped off a HUGE donation to Goodwill of old shoes, clothes, and other miscellaneous items that I no longer used but were still in decent condition. I have only a few more things left to do to get the place to my satisfaction before he comes, and then he'll be here. I also cleared out a couple of drawers for him and cleared out a workspace for him at my dining room table. 

So how do we keep things alive while we're apart? For starters, we do regular date nights in addition to our regular nightly video chats. Our video chats feel like they last 15 minutes when, in reality, we're on the phone with each other for usually two hours. Date nights are different; we do an activity together. While he was at his apartment in Boston, it was us cooking a meal together. We took turns choosing the recipe. For the last month, he's been staying with his family since things were lonely in Boston. He hasn't been able to cook since he doesn't have dominion over the kitchen there. So we improvise - he will paint, I will bake or cook. 

I'm glad he's as dedicated to this relationship as I am. He makes a point to send me a little note during the day. He surprised me with a gift at Easter. He reminds me of our date nights. We plan our date nights together. We planned my birthday trip together (if we're still not in lockdown by the summer). It's all these little things that keep the relationship thriving. 

The other day, I was listening to Ryan Seacrest on the radio. A caller was complaining about how he met a girl right before the shutdowns, and he didn't know how to keep the momentum going with her. To my surprise, Seacrest suggested some of things that Boston and I were doing. I thought to myself, at least we're on the right track. The caller wasn't impressed. He said it was all "too hard." Seacrest's reply was, "Well, dating is hard." 

It is hard, and when it's long distance, it is really hard, but we know that this isn't going to last forever. Both of us are willing to move for each other, depending where we are when we're ready to tie the knot (yes, it's come up, because in a long distance relationship, you need to have an end game). 

For now, we take things a day at a time, knowing that the other person is worth it. I love that he reminds me of this periodically. "You're totally worth it." 

He's totally worth it, too. 

Photo Credit: travelpraylove.com 

Off the Market

My trip to Boston this weekend was absolutely epic. I flew up single, and came back with a boyfriend. 

I must confess that the portion of the trip leaving my town and being on the plane was nerve-wracking to the point that I wanted to cry. I was terrified of contracting the virus. There were way more people in the airport than I anticipated. I created a make-shift mask using one of my summer scarves, but after the damn thing kept falling and getting in the way, I ditched it. I knew it wasn't going to protect me anyway, so I threw myself to the mercy of staying as far away from people as possible. After all, I thought, I'm sure that the plane won't be so bad, and I would be able to work. 

But the flight was bad. It sucked, big time. 

There were tons of people on the flight. It was so crowded that I thought if I was going to get sick, today would be the day. This is it. I kept telling myself, though, that the trip was worth it. I focused on my destination and tried to bury myself in my work using the on-flight wifi. I didn't want to use a vacation day, so I was going to bill my ass off in the airport, on the plane, and a little bit once I got to his apartment. 

Once the plane landed, I relaxed. The excitement of seeing him set in. I couldn't wait. While I was waiting for my luggage (the airline checked my bag for me since the cabin space was so sparse), I met a lovely woman named Lisa with her service dog, a sweet Havanese. She was an older woman, and I agreed to help her get her luggage. She had two large, 50 lb. suitcases that she needed help with. She was a Boston resident and had brought her items from her summer home since she didn't know when she would return again. She asked me why I was flying in a pandemic. I felt like an idiot and responded, "My boyfriend lives here." (At this time, "Boston" and I weren't official, but it was easier to say than, "this guy I've been dating"). Once I said that, her eyes lit up. 

"Oh! A romance. How sweet. I hope he appreciates you flying here to see him, and that he will do the same." 

"Yes, he comes to see me in April, as long as they don't ground the flights." Part of me felt real fear at the prospect. 

"It'll work. Have faith." 

Just then, the luggage belt horn sounded, announcing our bags which, thankfully, arrived quickly. Boston hadn't gotten to the airport yet, giving me enough time to throw some makeup on my face. By the time I finished, Boston texted that he was pulling in. I went outside and felt the cool air. I was really here. 

And then when I saw him at the airport, with a smile, pulling up and taking my suitcase, all the fear  I felt from the morning washed away. He gave me a kiss on the mouth immediately, quipping that if I was infected, he was already screwed. We got home. 

I won't review every detail from the entire weekend, but I'll say this: the trip was worth the risk for me. Waking up next to him for the first time was amazing. The chemistry between us was pure electricity. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, and we shared more with each other in three days than I think we would have if we were in the same city. We grew so much closer. The best part was that he asked me to be his girlfriend. 

On Sunday morning, while we were holding each other confessing our feelings, he asked me how I felt about "making it official." 

"What, you mean, like I'm your girlfriend?" 

"Yeah, I mean, my girlfriend, and I'd be your boyfriend. I know it's a label, and I'm not saying I'm crazy about labels, but we could make it official." 

"I'm okay with that label," I said with a smile. 

That night, he deleted his dating apps. I deleted mine the next day. 

I felt tears welling up when we were parting at the airport. I held it in, because I still had hours of travel ahead of me. Logan airport was a ghost town. Security was a breeze because I was only one of two people walking through. 

I miss him, and I can't wait to see him again. He invited me to meet some of his family for Memorial Day weekend, but because of an arbitration, I can't fly up that Friday. 

"It's okay, you'll see them on July 4 weekend when you come up." 

Things are really moving forward, and I'm so happy. I guess some might expect me to say that I wish it wasn't happening in the middle of a pandemic, but I won't say that. I won't say that because I've been waiting a very, very long time for a good man that I care about and who cares about me, and I think I have found one. I deserve to be happy, and as selfish as this sounds, I'm not going to put my relationship on hold. We will take precautions, and we will stay away from others, but we won't stay away from each other. 

 

Love in the Time of Coronavirus

I finally met someone I like, but he lives in Boston. Air travel is risky these days. Do we stop seeing each other? Phone calls and video chat only gets you so far. 

But first, background. 

Ironically, I met this guy about 6 years ago when I was looking for a new apartment to escape my psycho ex who kept puncturing my tires (oh yes, a tire per week). I barely took note of him at the time. He had curly hair, blue eyes, and he was a health law lawyer. I was still a prosecutor back then. He was renting where I live now, and he seemed like a nice guy. We connected on LinkedIn, had a few phone calls during the transition process when I had questions about the community, and that was it. He moved back to Boston after his in-house counsel job here in town laid him off; he started his own practice, and now has clients in 3 states. He's still a small operation, but he is aggressively trying to grow his practice. I admire him for that. I never had the guts to start my own practice, mostly because I suck at rainmaking. I like to practice law; I hate business. 

Back in January (January 20, to be precise), we matched on Bumble. He reminded me of who he was; he looked so different. His curly hair was now gone and he was bald. He was 33 now, had nicer glasses, and he looked like he lost some weight and had toned up. He was visiting with his mom and stepdad. He was only in town for a few more days and asked if I'd like to meet. I said yes, and we met at a World of Beer for a drink on January 24.  

On that date, he told me that he wanted to find someone to have a serious relationship with; he wanted to settle down, and he needed to know if I wanted that or was I just looking to hook up. Everything he was saying was music to my ears. Settling down? Of course. I'm 35 and my eggs aren't getting any younger. Settling down with someone who has their life together? Sign me up. I told him I was, and he said, "I just want to make it clear, I'm not here to waste your time." Wowzers. 

After the date, we shared our first kiss, and in the month after, we shared many phone calls and text messages until his second visit in February. More phone calls and daily text messages. 

Then the coronavirus started growing in the US. At the time, I was going to run the London Marathon on April 26 and I would fly out to London on April 22. To see me before I left, he was going to fly to see me on April 16 and stay for 5 days. Then, the plan was that I would see him in May. Of course, the marathon was postponed and the airfares went dirt cheap in March. While talking on the phone earlier this week to plan for our May visit, I saw how cheap the fares were - $56 round trip. How could I say no? 

Well, the coronavirus is a concern. And yet, I bought the fare and we planned the weekend without thinking. 

And then the paranoia hit me. What if I catch it? And give it to him? And who knows who else? 

And what if I don't? 

And what if all domestic flights are grounded for months and we don't see each other? 

And what if... 

I decided to take the chance. I have as much risk catching it in the airport as I would running around the supermarket looking for some toilet paper. I'll take precautions - and hand sanitizer - and stay away from as many folks as possible. 

I'm excited to see him, and I haven't felt like this in a long time about anybody. My emotions are probably convincing me to do stupid things. 

This pandemic makes me realize, though, that a long-distance relationship is no joke. It takes more time and preparation than a local relationship would and can get disrupted way more easily, but it also makes the time together much more special. 

I hope the virus gets under control soon. 

For now, it's love in the time of coronavirus. 

Out of the Fryer, Into the Frying Pan

The new job hasn't been so hot. Lots to tell (of course there is, when I haven't posted in so long).

I've been bamboozled by my new firm. In front of my innocent nose they dangled the much-coveted "work-life" balance that every lawyer dreams about. There was no time off policy for attorneys, I was told during the hiring process, just make the hours and make sure that time off doesn't conflict with any major trials. Eight months later, I learned that "work-life balance" was just a gimmick. I was lucky enough to get into two marathons this year, Berlin and London. The two trips are 6 months apart. When I told my boss I was taking time off so I could run the London Marathon and later the Berlin Marathon, he flipped out. It was "unheard of" for a first year associate (in the legal world, this means someone who just graduated law school) to take time off, much less a two week vacation. If I took any more time off after London, it amounted to three weeks. It was outrageous in his eyes. I assured him I would do the same I had done in my last firm - keep up with my work and make sure the hours were done. He wasn't convinced.

"I'm going to make this clear to you," he said, gruffly, as he pointed a finger at me. "If you take that time off, you will not get a bonus, and I don't care if you hit your target billable hours. The expectation is for you to be here 24/7. This is your trade off. You are a first year associate." He went on to tell me that the billable hour expectation was much, much higher than I was originally told.

I sat there, stunned. I didn't know what to say. My last firm recognized that I had come in with prior experience.  It all counted, every year in the practice of law counted. Here, I was equated with a first year lawyer instead of a ten year lawyer. Initially, I was devastated, and then, after letting it all roll around in my head, I became enraged.

Seriously, what the hell? On top of it all, one of partners from a different office had committed suicide. Part of it was because of his own mental health battles, but part of it was from the stress of the job. My boss's words came on the heels of the death of this partner. Why was I barred from being able to take time away from the stress of this job? What happened to work-life balance? What happened to the promise of lower billable hour requirements? What happened to the promise of time off as long as the hours were done? I had been bamboozled, and when I realized I had been bamboozled, my loyalty was gone. I was going to find a new job.

I approached our firm administrator.  I didn't tell her about the discussion, but she told me there was no billable hour requirement. I just had to be profitable and she repeated the previous number that had been touted in front of me from day 1 when I applied to this firm. I asked whether time off was taken into account when factoring raises and bonuses. She said she didn't think so, but it was all "discretionary." No transparency.

On top of it, I've come to discover that my boss is also sexist. He makes occasional rips at me for being a woman attorney, saying I should not be so "aggressive" and gets angry with me when I express a disagreement with his views on any legal matter. He is mostly unpleasant; just yesterday, I emailed him about a settlement agreement that another lawyer wanted us to convey to our client. I wasn't working the case, but I always had a good relationship with that lawyer which was why she reached out to me. When I asked him later in the afternoon if he saw my email, he snapped at me, "Yes, I saw your email and I will get to it on my time not yours." Geez. He makes my old boss look like Mother Theresa. Some days he is nice to be around, but most days, I keep my door closed so I can avoid as much contact with him as possible. I figured out the best analogy for my work life: Devil Wears Prada, law firm edition, except my boss is not stylish and he doesn't have any redeeming qualities.

So... I'm back on the job hunt, except now I've decided to get away from law firms altogether. This leaves me with two options: house counsel for a company, or government.  I think I prefer house counsel.

After getting screwed over on my student loans when I wanted to do public service loan forgiveness, I decided that it won't matter if I ever go back to government work. (I was given misinformation when I would call about getting my loans into the forgiveness program, and then I found out that the first 3 years of payments I was making didn't count as qualifying payments for my loan forgiveness because they weren't consolidated in the right program. I recently refinanced my loans anyway, from a whopping 7.1% interest rate down to 3.91%). Thus, higher pay in the private sector looks a lot nicer to me, even though I do enjoy, and probably prefer, government work. I sold my dreams, and now I look at my job as a way to make money so I can have fun, and not as a way for me to live out my passions.

As sad as it might sound, I think following my true passions is just a fairy tale. Now I just look at each individual day and figure out how to stay happy for that day, knowing that I have the promise of tomorrow to try again if today sucks.