Rule #247 to any relationship, especially one’s involving men: choose your battles wisely! Unfortunately, I had to learn this rule the hard way.

Being in two different states, Dylan and I have structured our relationship around the agreement of taking turns once a month to visit each other. This past weekend was my turn and I couldn’t have been more excited! I had everything planned out; get there around five, dinner date at my favorite Potsdam restaurant, Mexican Cantina, possibly a little rondevu, before partying the night away with his frat brothers; and that was just the first day. But sadly, none of that happened.

As I pulled up to the house, my heart palpitating out of my sequenced top, there I see Dylan waiting for me on the front porch steps in his cute earth-toned green V-neck, wearing the biggest smile across his face. I’m greeted with the passionate kiss I have been dying for and the warmest hug that I have greatly missed these past three weeks. So far, so good.

Or, so I thought.

It was perfect, until he opened his mouth. “So I have a frat function in a half hour, so I’ll help you bring your stuff upstairs and you’ll just wait in there until I’m done. It should only take an hour or so.”

AN HOUR OR SO!? Um, hello, I just drove four and a half hours to see you and you’re leaving me alone, in your room! I came all this way to wait: what about my Coyote Quesadilla or at least some intimate one on one time, I mean come on, it’s been three weeks!

But, like any other girlfriend who hasn’t seen there boyfriend in almost a month, I make sure to tell Dylan how I’m feeling, or how he likes to consider it: I was prepared to bitch. Before I could even let out an exasperated sigh, he stopped me mid-exhale, reminding me of how he warned me prior to picking when I would visit, that the annual frat pledge tradition was scheduled for this weekend. It was that moment when the phone call at the end of the hall discussing our visitation plans became suddenly clearer.

God damn. He’s right.

Although the heart wrenching feeling of Dylan beating me in an argument damages my pride, nothings worse than him KNOWING he is right. So to save from embarrassment and possible bragging rights, I casually blew off the situation as if I knew that was the plan from the start.

“Oh I know, I remembered. Now, help me with my bags.” Cool. Collected. Inconspicuous.

Although rule #247 seems like one that can be easily broken, and oh, trust me, it is, it’s one that can save one’s relationship from the bullshit arguments that lead to no solution. When committing to a long distance relationship, it’s important to remember what’s worth fighting over, before you lose what you fought so long for; each other.