[lovesick]

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It does not. “I think I’ve got it.” he says. I breathe in that musty quarantine air, a deep breath, because I know this means I won’t see him again for a few weeks. We live exactly 1.2 miles apart. Frankly, I am not surprised. You see, my new boyfriend has a long history of somatic symptom disorder, going so far as to manifest actual symptoms that range from fevers to chest pains. I’d caught a few signs that he was closing in on a diagnosis(random text: “I coughed three times.”), but I had hoped that the awareness of his past behavior could help separate true symptoms from his anxiety. That’s not to say that his pain wasn’t real, but only that symptoms triggered by a virus could actually affect other people. And yeah, I selfishly wanted it to not be true. Because over the past three months we had dealt with crazy work schedules, shingles, pregnancy scares, lay offs, depression, and now this. In short, we quickly reached maximum capacity for bullshit and somehow managed to still like each other. Our plan was to quarantine together and do all the things that couples do. Movies, cooking, late-night runs. Sex. “My chest feels tight and I’ve had a few chills.” he continues. Single cough. “Well, let’s play it safe. Stay inside, monitor your vitals, and drink lots of fluids.” I tell him. I choose to believe him, because we’re all scared, and we each cope in different ways. The doubts are still there, of course, but I’ll let his mom and therapist deal with them. Given the state of affairs, we likely will never know if he had COVID-19 or not. As I write this, I wonder if this is an exercise of patience or one of acceptance. My heart no longer longs for times that never were. 1.2 miles is not enough distance to bring us closer, but it is just enough to show me what my heart wants. After our call, I open all of my windows to let some fresh air in.