I swore off long-distance relationships. I then fell for a man who lived on a different continent.
The author traveled from London to Sydney to meet up with someone she had seen twice before.
After witnessing friends endure the rigmarole of long-distance relationships, I could see why almost half of them end in breakups.
I swore that would never be me, yet here I was, hammering my American Express details into an airline’s checkout to book a one-way flight from London Heathrow to Sydney, Australia, to pursue the man of my dreams.
Three months prior, my dating life couldn’t have been more different.
I was tired of dating apps
Throughout my 20s, I relied solely on dating apps, spending Sunday evenings in front of the television trawling through Hinge, trapped in message ping-pong purgatory.
It became easier to reach my landlord than to secure a potential date.
The disposable nature of modern dating had left me exhausted. Finding love felt like ordering fast food and I’d lost sense of what I wanted in a partner.
While at lunch with my single friends who were complaining of the same epidemic, we paused our profiles and coined the weekly theme night — Mystery Thursdays — to partake in activities that enabled us to spark IRL connections.
The inaugural night found us in the sweaty basement of a salsa club in Soho, London. After a confidence-boosting shot of tequila blanco, we danced with the regulars, laughing and shaking our hips to The Gipsy Kings.
With aching feet and the clock approaching midnight, we prepared to hail a cab — until a tap on my shoulder from a man wearing a red bandana around his head interrupted my plans. In a sunny Australian drawl, he asked me to dance.
It was an instant connection
This encounter with a tourist on a European holiday was about to trump all romantic introductions I’d had in the past decade. Our spontaneous encounter led to heartfelt sunrise conversations over cups of tea on the living room floor of my studio apartment.
He was perfect for me — but the catch was that we could only have one more date together before he had to fly home.
After a coffee and a walk by the Thames, we parted ways on Waterloo Bridge. Commuters hurried past to get home, as we wished for time to move slower.
Weeks passed as I tried to move on, accepting that London was all we’d ever have and that perhaps it was time to unpause those apps.
Then, he got in touch.
We set up a Zoom call and as I suspected, that same spark ignited on the dance floor remained, despite hemispheres and laptop screens dividing us.
We spoke every day, morning and night. While one of us clattered pots and pans making dinner, the other grabbed a coffee before work.
I confessed my dream of quitting a job selling top-shelf wine to the London elite to become a full-time writer. He suggested I take time out to travel, and that Australia would be a great place to start.
We started falling in love, building on the emotional foundation created over almost 100 hours of conversation. In my heart, I knew he was the one — and I let that feeling guide me to the craziest decision I’ve ever made.
I bought a ticket to see him
One morning I nervously watched the clock, waiting for him to wake up. I was about to announce that I had quit my job and booked a one-way ticket to see him.
Fortunately, his reply, accompanied by a beaming smile, was, “Tell me the day and time you land, and I’ll be there.”
After six months Down Under, I found myself in one of the longest long-distance relationships geographically possible. We traveled back and forth across continents for each other, until the spring of 2024, when we decided to become full-time housesitters.
Finally enjoying the benefits of being a couple based in the same time zone, we also now had the freedom to work on our creative projects — he as a musician and me as a writer.
Some relationships ask us to risk more. But as a poster girl for long-distance relationships, I can attest that skipping shortcuts to finding a soulmate and leaning fully into vulnerability has given me my dream life and man.
