It’s not that it wasn’t fun or whatever. It was good. It was fun. It wasn’t completely ruined or anything, it was still a good time.
That being said…there were times, challenging times, even before we called it quits, it got challenging.
The flight home was particularly challenging, it was like twenty hours or something like that, so it was a long time and a lot of emotions were happening. Well not really a lot of emotions, not a great range, mostly one emotion.
It was almost as if we were slowly breaking up for two weeks, and the plane ride home was like a countdown to it being officially over. So the last two weeks were pretty challenging, but at least we were still in it, we were still together and enjoying ourselves half the time. There wasn’t much to enjoy on the plane, it was just long, and sad, and finalizing.
It wasn’t just that we were calling it quits, but the whole trip was over. Back to responsibilities and making choices aside from what to eat. Two months, and it was over, and we were over, and we started ending it with two weeks still to go. And the plane ride was like twenty hours.
There was crying and whispering, trying to keep everything between us, luckily the plane was like half empty. We wanted to land, but we weren’t ready to go back yet.
The last two weeks were challenging. A lot of speculation of what we would do once we landed, where we would each go once we landed. It was challenging, and we kept making out and almost having sex, then stopping. In the last two weeks there was a lot of dry humping followed by masturbating in our respective bunks.
It was still fun, but the whole trip was challenging. Living in hostels, riding on trains and crammed buses, hot, just being hot all the time. Smelling most of the time, being sticky, but it was fun.
We went from being in a semi long distance relationship to spending every waking moment together, being hot, and sticky, and smelling most of the time, but having fun, but being challenged. Tested.
There were factors, there were many factors. Spending every day with a person for two months straight in country where we didn’t know anyone else was a challenge, and a big factor. And we almost made it. But then we didn’t, and we still had the two weeks, and we still had the twenty hours.
So we landed after twenty hours. And my phone was still on some temporary roaming plan where I couldn’t make calls, and her phone was dead, so it took us an hour to find our ride, so it was twenty-one hours. The last hour was mostly exhaustion and anger and frustration, so I guess there were more emotions after all.                                   So we went home. I sat up alone and there was only one person I wanted to talk to. It was a challenge, because she was the only person I really talked to for two months and twenty-one hours, although the last hour was just me furiously complaining about cell phones. I forgot how to speak to other people. People asked questions, but I only wanted to talk to one person. But the whole thing was about doing something that was uncomfortable, doing something that was a challenge.
Not texting her was a challenge. Laying in bed that first night home was as uncomfortable as a twenty hour flight or a crammed, hot bus. It was less fun than those last two weeks.


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