Long distance love is currently winning the fight and I’m just trying not to tap out. It’s January 2026, I’m in this shoebox apartment maybe 30 minutes outside DC, heat is making that weird clicking noise again, and my boyfriend is 9.5 hours ahead in Haryana finishing his chai while I’m stress-eating leftover Domino’s at like almost midnight my time.
We’re not “thriving” like those TikTok couples with matching bracelets and synchronized sunrise calls. We’re… hanging on. And somehow still laughing. Barely.
So here’s the seven things that have stopped me from yeeting my phone into traffic so far this month.
1. The Ugly Daily Check-In (No Filter, No Editing)
I used to try to sound cute and put-together in messages. Big mistake. Now I just send whatever. “Just burned my tongue on coffee again like an idiot” with a selfie of me sticking my tongue out. He sends back a voice note of him cackling and then telling me about the stray dog that followed him to the metro today.
Those stupid, boring, slightly embarrassing updates? They’re actually what keep the connection alive. Not the “miss you more” essays.
I read somewhere that tiny micro-moments matter more than huge declarations — Psychology Today had a decent little article about it — and yeah it tracks.
2. Video Calls That Are Allowed to Be Chaos
We do Friday “movie dates” even though it’s 8 p.m. my time and breakfast o’clock for him. I’m in the same hoodie I’ve worn for three days, he’s got bed hair and paratha crumbs. We start the same show on Teleparty, argue about whether the main character is trash, I inevitably fall asleep mid-sentence, wake up to him doodling devil horns on my frozen face on his iPad.
It’s not aesthetic. It’s real. And real is what’s keeping us from drifting.
(Teleparty still slaps in 2026 by the way — https://www.teleparty.com/)
3. Care Packages That Turn Into a Low-Key Arms Race
Last box I sent had:
- my old college hoodie that smells like my shampoo (yes I know that’s weird)
- sour patch kids because he’s addicted
- a note that started sweet and then turned into a rant about how Walgreens never has my Ben & Jerry’s flavor in stock
He hit back with masala chai sachets, a little brass Ganesh “for removing obstacles” (I cried in the kitchen like a loser), and a playlist on a tiny USB stick labeled “for when time zones are being assholes”.
Physical stuff keeps long distance love from feeling like you’re just dating a ghost. If you want easy inspo, this Etsy store has cute LDR kits when you’re too tired to DIY.
4. Voice Notes > Perfect Paragraphs Every Time
I type something, delete it, retype it, hate it, give up. Voice notes? I just hit record and let the chaos fly. Rambling about the pigeon on my balcony that’s basically my new therapist, crying because I saw a cute couple at Target, laughing at my own bad joke thirty seconds later.
He says he replays them on the metro when the day feels heavy. That hits different.
Send the messy ones. They’re the ones that feel like being in the same room.
5. Shared Google Docs for Dumb Inside Jokes
We have like four running docs now:
- “future apartment ideas” (even though who knows when)
- “grocery list of spite” (he keeps adding “your dignity”)
- “dumb shit we texted this month” (currently 52 pages and growing)
It’s ridiculous. It keeps us creating memories together even when we’re 8,000 miles apart.
Future apartment ideas (because why not dream big, timeline be damned):
6. Our Three Dumb Fight Rules That Actually Work (Mostly)
Long distance love turns molehills into volcanoes real quick. So we made rules:
- nothing heavy after 11 p.m. my time because I turn into a drama llama
- always end with something soft even if we’re pissed (“your face is still my favorite”)
- 24-hour cool-off before round two if it’s serious
We break them sometimes. But having them helps.
7. Countdowns Are Fine… Just Don’t Live Inside Them
We’ve got a widget counting down to my next visit in late September. I stare at it when I’m low. But I also force myself to do stuff here — went to a terrible open mic last week, joined a pottery class where I made the world’s ugliest mug, hung out with friends who don’t ask “how’s India boy?” every five minutes.
