Domestic Disturbance

The relationship my boyfriend and I have is a simple one. Our longevity as a couple is, I think, rooted in the idea that our main goal is to keep the other person happy. That includes being funny, provoking deep thought, and snuggling. What it does not include is being disappointed, crying, and the first implications that we are starting to not know each other anymore.

Kyle's work schedule and mine are almost mutually exclusive. If you know me, we have already had this conversation, as it is a source of unending consternation for me. I apologize for the repeat, but this blog does not revolve around you. It revolves around NaBloPoMo.
I work from 10 to 5pm most days, which makes it necessary for me to be out of the house by 9 sharp. Kyle works from 3 to 11:30, which means he gets home at 12:15. The problem with this schedule is that I'm usually up and out of the house before he even thinks about doing the same, and am fast asleep by the time he gets home. We usually try to take advantage of the fact that we work down the street from each other by visiting in the middle of the work day, but these encounters last for less than half an hour. The most time we get to spend together is on the days we have off at the same time, and this happens rarely. The longest stretch of time so far that I have gone without having a conversation other than "how's your day going? let's eat! seeya later!" has been 14 days, and it's about to get worse. My recent promotion goes hand in hand with a change in schedule, so I'm waving goodbye to my coveted weekends as I write this. And when we do have days off, one or both of us will want to spend time with friends, instead. Not that we don't want to spend time with each other. It's just that there are only so many hours in the day, and, well, FRIENDS, dude. You gotta have 'em.
There have been many instances of "ships passing in the night" in the last few months. One of us will roll over in bed and grab the other, only to be sharply informed that the window for conversation or play has closed. I mean, you're either the Sexy Renegade who stood up for love and righteousness and was slapped smartly back down, or you're the evil Sleep Dictator who hates happiness. Either way, one of these interactions is perfect for making you hate yourself or raise a seriously malevolent middle finger at your significant other's back.

When Kyle and I first started dating, we told each other that if we were unhappy, we'd end it. It just made sense. We aren't married or anything. We don't have kids. We would just have one of those "state of the union" talks and maturely decide that it wasn't worth our misery anymore. Ah, for the logic of the Early Days. I'm just starting to realize that it may not be that simple.