On Monday I feel a euphoria beyond words. On Tuesday I’m crashing. The rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall again. It’s a pattern that I’ve become more or less accustomed to. But I deal with it. Talking to him, laughing with him, knowing him…it’s worth the pain that sometimes comes with the joy.

This journey has gone on for what will be three years, come this summer. I’d be lying if I said it was an easy one on my behalf.

As a gay teenager growing up in the South, dating has never been easy, if at all possible. During my first year or so of coming to terms with the fact that I was gay and exploring that part of me, I tried online dating, much to my chagrin.  It was hard to work with, hardly useful. Needless to say, I lost faith in the reliability of “finding love” online.

Then I met him. To this day I can remember the first time I talked to him, the first conversation we had, through a private message, of course. By this point, I had given up on online dating and just happened to stumble upon his profile. I remember thinking he seemed like an interesting guy, certainly cute. Dating was out of the question, as he lives hundreds of miles away, but he could at least be someone to talk to. And to my excitement, he messaged me back.

And so he stayed a friend to me, a good friend, for nearly the first year of our knowing each other. But things changed. I began to fall for him, hard.

It’s a bit embarrassing to openly admit to having feelings for a guy I’ve never met in person. I’m sure not many would take it very seriously. But these feelings were and still do feel genuine. I also feel it’s important to clarify this isn’t anything like what’s on MTV’s “Catfish” (thank God for Skype and social networking). Having people constantly warn me about him got real old, real fast. I’ve gotten to know him just as I’ve gotten to know anyone else in person. Talking with him has always felt natural.

I had always harbored a not-so-secret crush on him, but those feelings grew bigger and bigger until I felt ready to burst. My heart became entirely vulnerable to him.

And so it’s remained that way ever since.  Needless to say, pining from afar has come with many difficulties. The desire to be the perfect boy for him and show him how I feel, and the inability to act on any of those emotions, leaves me anxious and melancholic.

But when I talk to him, when I laugh with him, I see glimpses of the life I want – the two of us, together, smiling, happy. And it’s that happiness that makes all of the anxiety and stress of pining from afar worth it. It’s been a long, anxiety-filled journey. But I’m determined for there to be a happy resolution to it all.