thedrifter
02-20-09, 09:31 AM
True life: my boyfriend is going to war
Posted Wed Feb. 18, 13:54:49 PST 2009
By Megan Mitchell of Verde Magazine
He ordered a Grande Caramel Frappuccino with whip. Surprised me; he didn't seem like the kind of a guy with a sweet tooth. He then insisted on covering my drink order as well. Once again, I had to do a double take to see who I was standing next to. I hadn't thought of him as the gentleman he was starting to seem like.
We took our seats, facing each other, both kind of tense because we didn't know each other too well at the time. I had just been assigned to profile him for the upcoming issue of Verde, and the first step was this interview. As I struggled to plug in my laptop to the outlet on the wall, he readily began telling me about his dream of becoming a Marine. He explained to me why he had enlisted and what he was expecting. I listened and grinned when he made little jokes, taking in as much as I could. He wasn't used to my sarcasm yet and I hadn't adjusted to his bleak honesty, so the interview was full of awkward, delayed laughter and overly-flushed cheeks.
I haven't changed too much since then. I'm still in high school, wear the same sandals and have the same hairstyle. I still drive my Honda Civic to school every day, and I never forget to pet my yellow lab goodbye on my way out the back door.
At the time of our interview — around a year ago — he hadn't yet lived on base, hadn't fired an M16 and didn't have his dog tags. He was green, so to speak. But a few months later, the unadorned barracks of bootcamp became his home.
We wrote letters back and forth. I would tell him of my lazy days in the summer sun, my recent trip to Hawaii, and funny gossip that I thought he'd enjoy. He'd respond with stories of drill instructors choking him by his chain necklace, how he had to run several miles with 50 pounds of baggage, or how much weight he was losing. I was somewhat worried, of course. I couldn't see his expressions, but the words on the paper were enough to tell how he felt.
From that point on, I knew it was real. The first time he came back home was completely dreamlike. Having been away from him for months, I couldn't believe that his figure was right in front of me. Of course, his belly had vanished, the scruff on his chin was gone and he had the appearance of an official Marine. But he was still the same guy I had sat down with in Starbucks to interview seven months before. Then, he left again. Came back. Left. Came back. Left. And now, I've got my best friend all the way across the country in North Carolina as he trains for war.
I know we're not blood, and I know we're not bound by marriage. I know we're not engaged or have any sort of family together. And no, I don't want these things. I know that we're young and that we have our entire lives ahead of us. I know, after being told countless times that long distance love trials are never successful, that he is still my closest friend. So when I say that my boyfriend is going to war, it's not a cry for pity. It's not a plea for attention or sympathy. It's not me overreacting about my situation as I deal with a reality that millions of Americans experience daily. It's a way for me to understand my own experience and confront what is in the near future for my best friend and me.
By the end of September, he will be deployed to Afghanistan. As we await his departure, we talk as much as we can. We talk about his job as a gunner and how he will be shooting at the enemy from the top of a humvee. We talk about how he will be gone for several months on his first overseas trip and how, if I'm lucky, I will hear his voice once a month. We talk about how my hands will get sore from all the letters and e-mails I'll be writing, while his may develop calluses from handling his equipment constantly. More than most things, we talk about how passionate he is. I could tell from day one that he is completely committed to defending this country. He is devoted to the discipline it requires and the fearlessness it demands. I'm not sure if he's ready for what is coming, but he's already given every part of himself to the Marines. He's spent hours each day training for the physical ultimatum, studied the ins and outs and in-betweens of what it means to be a Marine, and never left behind his ability to grow.
I've never really known anyone who has been to war aside from my grandparents. So, even though he might be prepared, I'm not. When it comes to fear, I am right there with anyone else in this position. I won't deny that I'm scared. Having one of my friends across the country would scare me no matter what they were doing.
I'll send him off with a smile and he'll return to us with just the same. My worrying will not change his daily endeavors or his final destiny. Instead of sulking in my fears, I will reach a state of optimism. Not ignorance, not foolishness, but an open eye to the positive side of what my best friend is accomplishing. Although this is just the beginning of his journey, he has already put himself on the edge so many times just so he can go one step further. As he sees it, the war after the training is just another step to go. He still has a blind eye to war, since he has not experienced it before, but he recognizes that it is a real destination for him.
My lucky day won't be the day that he comes home safely; it'll be each day in between where I know he's living out his dream. When I start worrying about him, I'll close my eyes and think of his smile. When I miss spending every day with him, I'll remember that there are millions of people throughout the country who are thinking just the same thing.
I've never even thought about what it's like to be on the battlefield, or on top of a humvee for that matter. But, I've got someone close to me who is about to figure it all out. So when he's across the world and I'm here worrying about whether or not he's got enough protective armor harnessed to his body, I'll remember that I can't assume anything. He taught me that you can't judge something that you don't know enough about. After all, he's the one who turned out to be the gentleman with a sweet tooth.
This story originally appeared in Verde Magazine on February 19, 2009.
Ellie
Posted Wed Feb. 18, 13:54:49 PST 2009
By Megan Mitchell of Verde Magazine
He ordered a Grande Caramel Frappuccino with whip. Surprised me; he didn't seem like the kind of a guy with a sweet tooth. He then insisted on covering my drink order as well. Once again, I had to do a double take to see who I was standing next to. I hadn't thought of him as the gentleman he was starting to seem like.
We took our seats, facing each other, both kind of tense because we didn't know each other too well at the time. I had just been assigned to profile him for the upcoming issue of Verde, and the first step was this interview. As I struggled to plug in my laptop to the outlet on the wall, he readily began telling me about his dream of becoming a Marine. He explained to me why he had enlisted and what he was expecting. I listened and grinned when he made little jokes, taking in as much as I could. He wasn't used to my sarcasm yet and I hadn't adjusted to his bleak honesty, so the interview was full of awkward, delayed laughter and overly-flushed cheeks.
I haven't changed too much since then. I'm still in high school, wear the same sandals and have the same hairstyle. I still drive my Honda Civic to school every day, and I never forget to pet my yellow lab goodbye on my way out the back door.
At the time of our interview — around a year ago — he hadn't yet lived on base, hadn't fired an M16 and didn't have his dog tags. He was green, so to speak. But a few months later, the unadorned barracks of bootcamp became his home.
We wrote letters back and forth. I would tell him of my lazy days in the summer sun, my recent trip to Hawaii, and funny gossip that I thought he'd enjoy. He'd respond with stories of drill instructors choking him by his chain necklace, how he had to run several miles with 50 pounds of baggage, or how much weight he was losing. I was somewhat worried, of course. I couldn't see his expressions, but the words on the paper were enough to tell how he felt.
From that point on, I knew it was real. The first time he came back home was completely dreamlike. Having been away from him for months, I couldn't believe that his figure was right in front of me. Of course, his belly had vanished, the scruff on his chin was gone and he had the appearance of an official Marine. But he was still the same guy I had sat down with in Starbucks to interview seven months before. Then, he left again. Came back. Left. Came back. Left. And now, I've got my best friend all the way across the country in North Carolina as he trains for war.
I know we're not blood, and I know we're not bound by marriage. I know we're not engaged or have any sort of family together. And no, I don't want these things. I know that we're young and that we have our entire lives ahead of us. I know, after being told countless times that long distance love trials are never successful, that he is still my closest friend. So when I say that my boyfriend is going to war, it's not a cry for pity. It's not a plea for attention or sympathy. It's not me overreacting about my situation as I deal with a reality that millions of Americans experience daily. It's a way for me to understand my own experience and confront what is in the near future for my best friend and me.
By the end of September, he will be deployed to Afghanistan. As we await his departure, we talk as much as we can. We talk about his job as a gunner and how he will be shooting at the enemy from the top of a humvee. We talk about how he will be gone for several months on his first overseas trip and how, if I'm lucky, I will hear his voice once a month. We talk about how my hands will get sore from all the letters and e-mails I'll be writing, while his may develop calluses from handling his equipment constantly. More than most things, we talk about how passionate he is. I could tell from day one that he is completely committed to defending this country. He is devoted to the discipline it requires and the fearlessness it demands. I'm not sure if he's ready for what is coming, but he's already given every part of himself to the Marines. He's spent hours each day training for the physical ultimatum, studied the ins and outs and in-betweens of what it means to be a Marine, and never left behind his ability to grow.
I've never really known anyone who has been to war aside from my grandparents. So, even though he might be prepared, I'm not. When it comes to fear, I am right there with anyone else in this position. I won't deny that I'm scared. Having one of my friends across the country would scare me no matter what they were doing.
I'll send him off with a smile and he'll return to us with just the same. My worrying will not change his daily endeavors or his final destiny. Instead of sulking in my fears, I will reach a state of optimism. Not ignorance, not foolishness, but an open eye to the positive side of what my best friend is accomplishing. Although this is just the beginning of his journey, he has already put himself on the edge so many times just so he can go one step further. As he sees it, the war after the training is just another step to go. He still has a blind eye to war, since he has not experienced it before, but he recognizes that it is a real destination for him.
My lucky day won't be the day that he comes home safely; it'll be each day in between where I know he's living out his dream. When I start worrying about him, I'll close my eyes and think of his smile. When I miss spending every day with him, I'll remember that there are millions of people throughout the country who are thinking just the same thing.
I've never even thought about what it's like to be on the battlefield, or on top of a humvee for that matter. But, I've got someone close to me who is about to figure it all out. So when he's across the world and I'm here worrying about whether or not he's got enough protective armor harnessed to his body, I'll remember that I can't assume anything. He taught me that you can't judge something that you don't know enough about. After all, he's the one who turned out to be the gentleman with a sweet tooth.
This story originally appeared in Verde Magazine on February 19, 2009.
Ellie