Friday evening, Josh is going to get on a plane to fly across the Atlantic Ocean from Indianapolis to Dublin. He’ll arrive Saturday morning. All to see little old me. It is quite possibly the best belated Valentine’s gift I’ve ever been given.

He’s making jokes about what’s going to happen when he gets here. Of course, most of them are probably true.

“How long is the elevator ride up to your apartment?”

“It’s just three floors up, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Okay.. How far from the elevator to your room?”

“All the way to the end of the hall.”

“So it’ll be a mad dash to the door?”

Yes, yes it will. And then we will have to sexile my roommate if she hasn’t left for her flight to Amsterdam or wherever yet. And then it will be five full days of sex, interspersed with food, movies, and a small amount of sightseeing. But really, going to museums or trying new cuisines isn’t the way to build a solid relationship, like everyone has told you. When it’s long-distance, the best way to get closer is by boning. That’s how I feel a connection.

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