You never think that one day you’ll be scrolling through LinkedIn – the very place you go to polish your professional persona and post overly formal big English posts – and boom, there he is. Not the guy offering a job or pitching a product, but someone who changes your life in the most unexpected way.
It started innocently enough. He slid into my LinkedIn messages, and I wasn’t even mad because he led with nerd talk. Talk about knowing your audience. We got talking, and before I knew it, he asked me out for coffee. To this day, I think he tricked me – who asks someone out after discussing kilowatts and careers? But there we were, a simple “Hi, thanks for connecting” morphing into an actual date.
That first date was nothing short of enlightening. He wasn’t just intelligent; he was passionate, calm, and deeply rooted in a field I adore – renewable energy. This wasn’t small talk about the weather; this was a deep dive into our lives, sustainability, innovations, and dreams of changing the world. I didn’t even realize when I stopped sipping my guaranas and started hanging on his every word.
Now, I’m not one to throw the word gentleman around lightly, but he redefined it for me. From the little things like making sure I didn't walk on the outside of the road to the bigger ones like checking in before ordering my food or doing anything. He’d carry my luggage without question and sit beside me rather than across when we hung out. It was as though he had downloaded some invisible “how to make her feel safe and cherished” manual- and safe I felt. A feeling I hadn't experienced in a very long time.
And then February came, and with it, the end of our hangouts. He left, a 5-hour time difference becoming our new normal. Honestly, if I could fight the sun and rotate the earth to eliminate time zones, I’d do it. Our conversations became stretched, sometimes catching each other at weird hours, but we try not to loose the spark.
We text about everything and nothing – playlists were binging on, photos from our different corners of the world, work stress, dreams, and sometimes the deep, soul-searching questions you only ask someone who feels like home.
I still laugh when I think of the moment he told me he loved me. You’d think I’d swoon, tear up, or say it back immediately, but no. Your girl froze. I stared at him like he’d just announced the end of fossil fuels. Now I regret that hesitation because I’ve since said it on text, but it’s not the same. Those words deserve eye contact, a heartbeat moment. So here I am, waiting for him to come back, practicing how to say “I love you too” without sounding like I’m reading off a script.
The distance is hard, and sometimes I hate that I can’t just see him on a whim. But every time we talk, I’m reminded why this is worth it. It’s the way he’s both my sounding board for career rants and the one who sends me photos of scenes in his life. It’s how, even miles away, he feels like the safest space I’ve ever known.
Love across continents is no joke. It’s late-night texts that stretch into the morning, waiting for the next flight, and holding on to the hope that, one day, we won’t have to balance time zones or WhatsApp voice notes. For now, though, I’ll hold on to every chat, every laugh, and every plan we make for a future where distance is a thing of the past.
And when he’s finally back, I’ll be ready – not just to say I love him, but to remind him why it was always going to be him. Even if it all started with LinkedIn.
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