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We were a most pleasant distraction for each other, but school would eventually resume for her, and I’d eventually meet someone in Reno.
We stretched it out for another few weeks, playing a single move per day accompanied by a single chat, neither of us willing to concede the end. I know how she felt when staring into the eyes of a buffalo up close.
One night, I sent her a message thanking her for the last two months, letting her know that however unorthodox it had been, I had loved every minute. I know she would love to see “Owl Jeopardy,” where every response starts with “Whoooo.” I know she gets mildly aroused talking about compound miter saws and has a weird thing for hands and likes to sing songs about her cat.
In person, I’m typically so shy in romantic situations that I can barely make eye contact with someone I’ve just met. Two weeks in, after playing and chatting four to six hours every night, she warned me that she was meeting her father in South Korea the coming weekend and wouldn’t be around to keep up our nightly ritual.
It’s strange to miss someone you have never actually met.