Leaving on a Jet Plane...again

We started this latest experiment in living a year and a half ago, wherein I move to the West and CoolGuy flies back and forth. When I first moved into the studio apartment, it was a fun adventure. I'd never lived by myself before, ever. I'd always shared a room and, except for college, always shared a bed! But here I was, in my own little room, with only me to care for and care about and, frankly it was really fun! What a luxury! I could eat popcorn and call it dinner! No one else to clean up after, or mesh schedules with or even wonder if they wanted to watch something on tv. But soon the novelty wore off and I was lonely. After six months, we bought a house, we moved all our stuff, and now "we" live here. Sort of. Cool Guy actually lives here less than he is gone. We just get a groove going for a week or two--work, dinnner, Jeopardy, hot tub--and then it's time to go to the airport and I'm alone with the cat again. It's far more schizoid for him than it is for me, I'm sure. But this week, I realized that I'm really looking forward to an entire month of the same routine. And I hope someday again we can truly "live" in the same house (heck--timezone) again. I'm not whining mind you: he has a great, well-paying job that he really likes and they like him. I just realized this week that I crave togetherness. Hmm...We'll get there, I'm sure. For thirty years, through all the separations of deployments, new jobs, me going to help my parents, etc., we keep saying "Let's never live apart again, okay??" And yet--we keep doing it! What' s up with us??