Such a simple question out of context: "Will you wait for me?" is the hardest question I've ever had to answer. The first time he asked it, I was still in the early, goofy stages of the relationship, and I spat out my affirmative before I realized what all it entailed. Time passed, ad I began to reconsider. I was only seventeen, and he would be gone for two years. As much as I respected his dedication to his religion, did I really want to sacrifice the end of high school, prom, and the first two years of college while he testified to the residents of Phoenix that the Book of Mormon was the true path to God? The more I heard about it, the more LDS sounded like a playground club to me: "Join our Secret Club! We'll tell you ten secrets about yourself and give you special underwear!" I began to realize that he would want to get married when he got back, and he would want me to convert. I'd already said I'd wait, but soon I saw that I was in way over my head.

I began this little epiphany on a school trip. As the week went on, I did not miss him nearly as much as I thought I would, and I began to reconsider if I should wait two years for someone I hardly missed. In two years I knew we could turn into completely different people; it wouldn't be fair for him to be expecting the same naïve seventeen year old, and waiting would also be pointless if we broke up when he returned.

He missed me that week like a true Romeo. We talked on the phone every night, but I almost came to dread it. I was having the time of my life, and honestly, hearing how much he missed me was not flattering; it was somewhere between depressing and pathetic. I knew it would kill him if we broke up before he left, so I suggested an "open" relationship, but it just killed him slower to know I had another guy. I knew it wasn't fair, he just voiced it first.