I remember when we matched on Tinder. I’m not one for remembering the smaller details… but there was a split second in my mind where I looked at his face and thought he had the warmth and kindness I was looking for. A quick six word message about a movie I’d seen and we were off. I didn’t realise that six words could set off a chain of events in my life that would make me question my unshakeable faith in love – a faith I’d held deep to my core since I was eight years old.
When I was a child, I grew up with a fantastical, rose coloured and romantic ideal of what falling in love was. You meet your partner after you drop an armful of books in the corridors of high school, you meet the family and eventually he gets down on one knee and your soul feels like it’s about to explode with happiness.
He wasn’t following the template. In fact, he was always out of reach physically. He lived in a beach town, a two hour drive out of the city and was busy with work, with family, with his kids. And although his body, his presence, his touch was unavailable, he was more than available on my phone. My Whatsapp chimed from when I woke up at 7.45am and continued until I drifted to sleep near midnight. He wasn’t fitting the template. But it was 2018. Maybe this was the new template?
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