I am deeply in lust.
He is witty and funny and artistic. The fact that he doesn't know that I'm alive is a mere hindrance. To be fair, he has left a few comments here and we are reciprocally linked, but I have noticed that his link to me doesn't say anything like, "The Lust of My Life" or "The Woman That I Plan on Having Wild, Unbridled (or bridled, if she's into that sort of thing) Sex With." He would be a fool to let me slip though his links.
The object of my affections lives far, far away. He's in a different time zone. This has proved to be an inconvenience in my relationship with him. It turns out, that I am very good at addition. When it is noon his time, it is three my time. It also turns out, that I am very bad at subtraction. When it is nine in the morning here, I have no idea what time it is where he lives. When I am logged into Google (nearly always), I look for his status. When it is red, I know that he is chatting with another girl. When it is green, I wonder why he is not chatting with me. I change my status to read stuff like "lubing myself" or "ready/willing," or "I will scratch that other broad's eyes out, I swear to G*d, don't make me do it," but still, he does not bite. It only makes my devotion stronger.
The thing about time zones that confuses me (besides the math) is that I can't understand why the time change is in hour increments. It seems like it should be in fractions. Why can't the system be standardized? A mile per minute would make sense to me. That way, I would know that he is 2,609 miles behind me. According to Google Maps (not that I've checked), that is like a difference of one day and 15 hours.
I would know not to tell him what happened on The Office or I could give him winning sports stats in advance so that he could place bets and make us rich so that we could live happily, although distantly, ever after.
Better yet, why can't everything just operate on my time schedule? It would be so much easier for me if I knew that while I am thinking about lunch, he is doing the same thing. Only, his lunch would be called breakfast.
Wait, I'm confused again.
The International Date Line is ruining my love life.