He left yesterday. I put him on a bus to the airport and sent him back across the ocean, 6,000 miles away from me. I miss him already. Hell, I missed him as soon I left the Jerusalem central bus station.

It was incredible having him here. For once in our crazy relationship, we were actually in the same city. We have been dating/going out (however you want to put it) for one year and almost two months, and have spent more of that time apart then together. In these last two weeks, I think we have gone on more actual dates than we have in our entire relationship.

Not that we haven't been communicating. We have rediscovered the long lost art of letter writing. We exchange emails often twice a day. And thank whatever powers that be for the invention of the telephone. (Alex Bell, you rock!)

But all of that pales beside the feel of his hand in mine. Talking to your lover on the phone is nothing, nothing compared to looking at your lover's face during that very same conversation. And no matter how hard I try, the memory of his arms is barely a whisper next to waking up beside him in the morning.

But now he's back home. And he's in production on his thesis, so that means I won't get to talk to him as much. I don't care. I still love him. I'm still in love with him.

I hope this lasts forever.