1 Hour, 15 Minutes Away

One of the very best things about moving a bit more north from my old neighborhood is being closer to the FTF.

"Exactly one hour and 15 minutes from door to door," he stated as he kissed me and waltzed through my front door -- earlier than I expected and looking as fantastic as always.

In the 6.5 years I've known him, this is the closest we've lived to each other. This will either prove to be very convenient or slightly frustrating. I'll split the difference and settle for something in the middle. But extraordinary visits less than a month apart is certainly something to be happy about.

I will freely admit- and have done so for years- that I love him. I am not, however, in love with him. Which is why our passionate, fun relationship had to end way back when. (Well, at least one of the two reasons)

See, when we first met, we hit it off instantly. Sparks flew. It was like something out of the movies. We couldn't get enough of each other and saw each other whenever we could. He traveled to Chicago for business fairly regularly back then, and our weekends were spent together. We adored each other. And neither of us trusted the other. (Reason #2 for having our dating period end)

As Dad would sayd, "You're burning the candles at both ends." Perhaps, but it was worth it.

Our relationship wasn't exclusive. I was seeing a few other people, and I know he was seeing someone as well. We weren't jealous; we were just thrilled to be with each other whenever we could. And then there came that point where we looked at each other and I just knew. We are not meant to end up together. Not like that.

I ended things, much to his chagrin. I think deep down he thought we could prolong things and maybe he could win me over completely. When you know, you know. I knew then that I loved him. I also knew he loved me. That means a lot, but it's not enough. I know him. I know what he needs, and I am not that girl. I am the girl he craves and that he looks forward to seeing and that he dreams about. I am not the girl to set up house with him. I am not the girl to long for him to marry me and have him stave off that juncture in life with excuses. That can be some other girl. I knew then just as I know now: That girl is not me.

But through our few months together, we developed a strong and wonderful friendship, which persists to this day. In addition, we still had that passion; the spark that has never left.

6.5 years later, here we are. Still together. This is the relationship that works for us. It is so wonderful to hunger for someone and have them share that same feeling. It is so wonderful to have something that works so well for us. It is unconventional yet a perfect fit for the both of us.

Select friends of mine have downgraded what he and have to just what I refer to him as: my FTF. But he is so much more than that, and the intricacies of this relationship cannot possibly be explained to someone who has never been involved in anything like this. I label him because it makes it easy to explain, but not so easy for others to understand. What we have is something no one can understand. I don't think he and I even fully get it. We just know that it is perfect and wonderful and we will enjoy this for as long as we can and adapt as need be. Because we did not start out as this and it's clear that as time moves on and circumstances change, we must adapt again. I am fairly certain, though, that we will always be in each others lives in some important way for a long, long time.

Which brings us back to being exactly 1 hour and 15 minutes away from each other. As he departed to head home and kissed me good-bye, he whispered: "Exactly one hour and 15 minutes away and just as perfect as when we met years ago."

I am lucky. He is even luckier.