Day 100: And so it goes.

On Friday, I put my one month notice in to quit my job.

I can hear my mother's voice on the other end of them phone. "In this economy, Trina? How will you live? Where will you go? You don't even know when you'll be able to leave." Even still, she relents. She knows how important this is to me, and besides, I'll have to go home. She misses me.

Despite some of the less savory aspects, my job is actually a pretty swank gig. My co-workers are fine, the work is tolerable, I'm not micromanaged. The real problem is Matt.

See, on January 26th, 2007, I was studying abroad in the UK, at the University of York. It was the Science Fiction and Fantasy Club's winter semester convention, and I was nervous. I hadn't really made any friends yet, besides my housemates, and I was eager to find someone, anyone to play DnD with.

By now, you're wondering if I am a nerd. Observant readers will have already noticed. I am.

I walked in apprehensive. Standing awkwardly to one side was a group of boys, and recognizing fellow newbies, I joined them. They were amused to see a Yank, I was still giggling that everyone sounded funny. The funniest looking one was red-haired with far too many teeth, glasses, and shoulders so broad he looked like a cartoon. He mentioned dragons and elves, and I asked him, softly, if he LIKED dragons and elves. He hesitated, and then insisted that no, no he did not. Pleased by his answer, I hugged him. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the third hug he had received from someone outside his family, and the second from a girl. I was his first kiss.

Now we want to get married and be together forever. That's the short version.

The long version involves a couple years of dating, trips across the Atlantic, lame love letters and role playing online, meeting families and eating too much ice cream. It's the sweet and bitter tale of long distance relationships.

The long version is me and Matt, my funny looking other half, trying to find a way to be together. It turns out the easiest way, the fastest way, and the best way, is for me to leave my country, my family, and the land that is in my blood and move over to England, to marry. I never wanted to be a young bride, and I never truly wanted to leave America, but these things are trivial when compared to spending the time with the person I love.

Of course, he needs a job and an apartment first. He does not have these things. But the wait is killing me. I miss seeing him, touching him. I hate doing nothing. I work. I sleep. I eat. I have lived in Denver for almost a year now, and have few friends. Being out of the house means being away from him. It hurts. We fight more. I'm going insane. And I know when it's done, I'll be a minimum of 3,000 miles away from the vast majority of everyone else I hold dear.

So I'm quitting my job. I'm packing up my house, and I'm shipping everything to my parent's house, or to Matt. I am, as my father says, going on a "goodbye tour". I am saving up, shipping out, and visiting my friends. I am visiting this country, moving from couch to couch, until I run out of money or run into boyfriend. There will be rules. The goal will be to not go home. The blog will be to track my thoughts and adventures while I do. More about me, and the trip, later.