I’m off to Canada tomorrow.

I’m off to…meet my wife, as it were. Please note, that I am a private person, and as such, the following words might be jumbled and a little disfigured because I am not entirely sure how to articulate what I’m about to say.

You must believe me when I say I am as skeptical of long-distance relationships as you are.

They don’t really make a lot of sense, they’re difficult, they have added stresses that other relationships don’t have, and at times, even the most domestic and routine of activities can be impossible.

Some days, it feels like every day is a Monday.

But I didn’t intend to fall in love with her. We didn’t meet on a dating website. We just…encountered each other on some forum somewhere deep in the recesses of cyberspace, and haven’t stopped speaking since.

She’s clever, and artistic, and empathetic, and warm, and very approachable, and I.. should probably stop myself there. (I also suspect she’d like me to slide facetious in here somewhere but I won’t. The cheek of me.)

I could also talk about the fact that we have similar values, perspectives and probably a sense of humour but that feels a bit forced.

So now, I’m going to be honest. I feel as though she’s unlocked me. Previously, I was a student with an interest in every other thing and no particular sense of direction – it was difficult for me to imagine the sort of shape my future might take and it was tricky for me to articulate what I really wanted.

And then, we arranged this trip (as mere friends, mind) and overnight I had a source of motivation, inspiration and drive that came from the promise of a two-month jaunt to a place I’d never been, with someone I’d never met in person – but greatly admired. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with her, and she went from being a friend I knew to my wife rather quickly.

I call her my wife, because it feels like we’re already married, and because I’m mad enough to believe it.

(Oh – I should interrupt with a short disclaimer. We Skype regularly, I have memorised her address from various postcards, letters and packages and I’ve spoken briefly to friends and relatives who can all quite soundly confirm her existence. Even if this all feels a little surreal.)

The purpose of this rambling paragraph, though, is I suppose, to say that I have learnt a lot from being in love with her. Being separated by oceans, I tend not to take little things for granted. Making tea for each other, coming home to one another, watching a movie together, eating together, even just sitting across from each other in companionable silence. These are all things I’ve learnt to look forward to.

This whole long-distance thing is not easy. I would not recommend it. But it’s a challenge. I like a challenge. And all the lost hours of sleep between time zones, all the times I’ve looked over my shoulder to find her not there, all the times I’ve wanted to take her somewhere out to eat and not been able to – not being able to hug her, even – all of those things will be worth it when I see her very, very soon.

I’m mad. I’m mad and I know it. But if I can fall in love with her from this far away, I have a feeling it just might work.

All I know is,  that at the end of the day, I am very, very lucky.

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