Your fantastic plastic Christmas tree has been lovingly packed away and stored in its original cardboard box from 1972. The holiday cheer has turned into New Year's rue in the face of long lines to exchange that UFC: Best of UFC 2009 DVD and re-gift a copy of Julie & Julia to your mother. Chilly, blustery weather no longer seems Rockwell-esque, it's just, well, cold.
And for some of you, with the resumption of college classes, overseas assignments, and other obligations that involve significant amounts of beef jerky, hotboxing, and Bob Dylan to get from Point A to Point B, the period following the dimming of the menorah signals the start of your winter of discontent.
'Tis the season to commence the ultimate test of fidelity, trust, and resistance to temptation. Tortured lovers, you may refer to this month as the runway to the flight of the long-distance relationship.
You met Mr. Right over mulled wine at 13 Celsius, but he went back to Princeton to finish his Ph.D. in Neuroscience? Don't let the mileage muckify your brain cells. Found out that Ms. Right Now from Seattle is actually going to be Ms. Mother of Your Child in Nine Months? Ain't no mountain high enough to put a pregnant pause on your budding, um, legal nightmares.
Anyone that's ever done the long-distance mambo will tell you that it rivals only amputated limbs in the painfulness department. You'll never find an advocate touting the positives of not being able to squeeze, paw, pounce upon, or nibble at the someone for whom you're feenin'. But we also know that technology has come a long way in shrinking the gap between virtual and reality. Just ask any blushin' boyfriend of a Real Doll to verify that this is, in fact, the honest-to-higher-power truth.
Wanna do a long-distance love right? 'Course you do. And if our better-than-nothin' approach doesn't convince you, the reunion sex in and of itself is worth the wait. And we would never, ever lie about that.
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We smell sexts and cameras here. Cameraphone? Check. Moist, throbbing, and/or erect body parts? Check. Put them together, punch a few raunchy phrases from your teenage Penthouse tutorials into your phone, and voila! You're intertwining your virtual crotches.
Reach out and chat with someone. If you're not at least pretending to work whilst chatting with your faraway paramour, are you really even in love? Don't answer that. Simply let us introduce you to 1998. If you're not frantically clickety-clacking Enter on saccharine-saturated messages via Google Talk, Facebook, AIM, Yahoo, or Windows Live (hell, even ICQ-in' it is acceptable), then your situation ought to be geographically de-gunked.
Seeing is believing. Videochatting might be the tits for tech togetherness. But look here. You're gonna need some tools to pull this one off. No, not those tools, and not pulling that off, but yes, those can assist in moving things along. Aside from downloading Skype, you'll need webcams. If you're awesome, you already own a Mac with said capabilities, but if you're old school, procure one of those orb-lookin' cameras and mount it. Err. We mean use it. Whatever. What you do with it is none of our business.
Just fuck it all. Hey, level with us here, okay? If you're not gonna commit to it, don't do it. Yeah, we're saying give it the fuck up. It's not worth it if you're gonna waste time -- yours or your honey bunny's. Seriously. Go ahead and screw bitches, but get gonorrhea on your own watch, hmmkay? You gotta be in it to win it. (Wo)man up and ship out if you can't shape up.