I had to pinch myself a few hundred times over when I agreed to be in a relationship with someone who lived far away; I’ve been (quite vocally) anti-LDRs
for so long that some of my friends didn’t believe me when I said it was serious (they all do now). I knew it would be quite an adventure or some sort of tough journey and that doesn’t only translate to the literal; the lack of physical proximity can’t compare to immediacy of action nor the need to nourish intrinsic and intangible factors.
He visited me again in London last month. It was short but definitely nothing short of amazing. I felt like a tourist, myself, having little adventures in a city I call my second home. We had the most amazing time doing things non-LDR/”normal” couples do on dates: we saw a film and went to catch The Book of Mormon
, had a picnic and hosted a barbie, went out with some mates, talked non-stop for hours, had nightly dinner dates, took heaps of “couplies”, ate loads of oysters and laughed together. He was here
. We held hands a lot and I could not have been happier.
And then he had to leave. Again.
It’s a guaranteed tough one at the airport when you know you’re not going through the same gates together. No matter how many times you say goodbye, it never gets easy and you will never get used to it. You get a Bob Dylan-esque feeling
and then a muddling war of nerves. No matter how strong and tough you seem outside, there will always be that gnawing feeling reminding you that you’ve been left behind and the people who leave always take a little piece of you when they go.
Not one for crying, I felt this when I found myself at the exact same spot last year, after his first London visit came to an end. I was dreading the long way home knowing I’d be sat next to a stranger and not have him around for a spontaneous lobster dinner to wear of the somber mood. Or a snog for lunch.
Like any other journey on terrains, must there be heaps of stops and starts? I sometimes feel like a drifting wanderer falling into the deep jungles of the Amazon until my compass breaks, or someone about to free-fall from the highest peak of the earth. Like any other adventure, I am bricking it with a full bag of emotions.
But there was something about this trip that made everything so crystal clear: this is the guy I want to be with for the rest of my life. Because he has given me direction, because he is my compass.
And no matter how many goodbyes we tell each other I will always be embraced by the greatness of love and by the promise of another hello.
And the certainty of what comes next.
All roads lead to you. I can’t wait to start our new adventure together.