His Crocs were the perfect compliment to his bleached blonde hair. On my first day of work as a summer camp counselor, I was staring longer than the acceptable time at who would eventually become the man who makes my heart skip a beat.

There was dry, green grass between us as I stared across the field. In addition to my heart jumping at his sight, my anxiety reminded me I was clueless in approaching this. For two weeks, butterflies paralyzed me as I arrived where no Nathaniel Langley had gone before: lovesick.

Still, in two weeks, we’d be together overlooking a sunset with its orange and pinks confessing to me this was it. Months later, in the equality state with more dry grass surrounding us, our passion became openly equal — and my heart skipped several measures.

What originated as noticing bleached hair and quirky Crocs across a field has extended into a relationship spanning around 850 miles — a distance just as profound and exhilarating as seeing him across the grassy field. Together in our hometown, apart amid college, it sucks. But nothing provides a greener future than the thought of being with him, therefore time and distance can’t matter.

Yes, it’s certainly better being with him close and not limited by time, but passion and love aren’t calculated in distance or time. Reflections, appreciations and longing toward him guide this long-distance relationship.

The only successful strategy in long-distance relationships is to improvise. There’s no such thing as “10 ways to win at long-distance relationships,” yet neither are the relationships hopeless. What delivers hope is the passion between each partner. Similarly, relishing in what’s there and what’s to be chucks time out the window and places love as one’s guide.

It felt as though life-support was disconnected when I saw his red Subaru turn the corner heading back home. He helped move me in — if anything, he set up the entire place. In contrast to a summer together nearly every moment, we were now separate.

Good morning texts became the new pre-work Dunkin’ expedition. FaceTime calls grew into digital stand-up bits of what I thought could make him laugh and ease the distance-induced pain. Monthly anniversaries developed into benchmarks marking our passion’s inception and a countdown to proximity and normality.

Yet during the school year, this is our normal. Although ideally, I would have it other ways — in the same time zone, for starters —I can’t complain. Long-distance has shown me how marvelous this man is and taught me time and distance are inferior to relishing love.

Try as I might disregard and create different perceptions to erase the distance, having this experience makes what we’re fighting for that much stronger.

The random texts he sends praising my least favorite actress — cough, cough, Jessica Chastain — and his latest takeaways from Latin or anthropology are astounding and better than any Dunkin’ run. His plant tours through FaceTime provide a beautiful, green backdrop to our conversations slipping into the night. Even the semester visits are heavenly as I spend weeks mentally preparing how I’ll run and pick him up without dropping my apartment keys or accidentally tackling him.

Our field remains in reflections. Fortunately, memories supersede time to where at a moment’s notice I’m back with Nike socks that’ll give me a nasty tan line, and he’s there to tease me for an “ambiguous” exterior. He’s also there rummaging through my favorite gas station in South Dakota and elated to see it carries licorice allsorts — which will be delicious driving through the Black Hills and passing the Grand Tetons.

Long-distance forces you to rearrange the relationship. Love lays itself as the foundation, yet the relationship’s blueprint reduces time and distance making room for devoted appreciation. For that, I love long distance. More than that, however, I love Michael.

Nathaniel is a junior in LAS.

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