theory of relativity

my friends’ favorite line: “why don’t you date someone in izmir?”

they love it.

and i love to watch them say it, because they have this genious look in their eyes, each time. as if they have just solved the cyprus issue, you know, or found a cure to some deadly disease. then a moment of silence follows. this is when i act like i’m actually considering it, which makes them even more excited. and then they tell me all the benefits of having a girlfriend in the same city, until they let it all out and can breathe properly again.

allright little einsteins, this one is for you. my very own theory of relativity:

first of all, i’m not stuck in long-distance relationships. i choose to be in one.

i don’t care what the rest of the world thinks about this. i think living in the same city (or worse- the same house) ruins relationships, simply because the closer you live to your dream-woman the less of a dream it gets. let me explain this first.

we all have a dream woman/man in our minds. because i am a lesbian, i will continue referring to this fictitious character as a woman, but please feel free to imagine a man instead.

this imaginary figure is so attractive for you, because she is the perfect woman. she was the perfect girl when you were 15: she would have long wavy hair, wear mini skirts, flirt with you between classes, invite you over after school, her parents would not be home etc. etc. she was the perfect woman when you were 25: she would be this really sophisticated woman who has this huge library and is 10 years older than you but looks 2 years younger than you because she swims every morning in that big swimming pool in the garden of her villa etc etc.

you change. your desires change and the fictitious character changes accordingly. simply perfect!

meanwhile, in real life, you interact with real-women. you get attracted by them. sometimes you can’t even tell why you are so into them. well, you get attracted by these women according to how much they resemble the dream-woman. sometimes it’s just the looks, sometimes the conversation reminds you of the one you had before with the dream woman, sometimes it’s just the feel of her hand on your skin. you actually mistaken the real life woman with the dream one. it’s just wishful thinking. hoping that you have met “the perfect one”.

then comes a time when you see some socks lying next to the bed. or legs get not shaved. or somebody forgets to brush her teeth after she smokes. and you miss the dream woman whose mouth always smells like mint. even right after eating a huge plate of garlic bread-which is your favorite meal. i don’t know how she does it. she is the dream woman after all!

when you figure something new and amazing in the real-life woman that you didn’t know existed in the dream-one, you automatically  make that addition to the dream woman, and even if you break up with the real-life woman, it stays with the dream one.

so far so good?

well, it is not so good. because the real life woman is not the perfect woman. she has flaws. just like you do. she rubs them to your face. the dream-woman, on the other hand, gets more and more perfect each day, and no matter how much you fuck up, she is always there.


you are the ones that stay with the real-woman. you tell yourself that the unshaved legs are allright, while you used to have this principle that you would never ever go to bed with a woman like that. you convince yourselves that it’s allright if she gets fat. you make it possible for her to turn into a drama queen, and you call that “working things out”. you love to be around your woman until you can not remember what it felt like to be you, alone. as years pass, you become one. and that someone, is no longer you. neither, her. you do not have the guts to stay away. you fear to be alone. you die to miss her, to spice things up, to begin anew…yet you fear to have one step away from where you stay.

i, on the other hand, start each day with my dream-woman. she is flawless, because when we are together, we both try our very best. my girlfriend does not belong to me. i do not belong to her. that’s why we make the effort not to have someone else step in and steal the candy away.

we love each other. we miss each other. we work our asses off to create time for each other and fly over seas and go over mountains for each other. and we do that on a regular basis. when we are angry, we turn off the computer. when we are mad, we call each other. but the point is, we don’t break hearts and mend them and say it’s allright.

we have a thousand miles between, but we can feel each others touch. what you call distance, does not exist for us.

we don’t become one. we co-exist. we choose to go on our ways and make the paths cross every now and then. and every time we meet, it’s like starting anew. it’s like getting to know a woman from scratch. and thinking she is “simply perfect”.

“long distance doesn’t work” cause you don’t take a step.

“she is far away” but i can feel her close. and the fact that we are closer though miles apart, while you can feel the distance while you are on each others throat, makes you bitter. it makes me a winner.

now go kiss your real-woman. tell her it’s allright.

i’m gonna call my dream woman and kiss her goodnight.


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