This Valentine’s Day, for the first time in years, I’m in a relationship. It should be cause for celebration, I suppose, but there’s just one problem—he lives in Sydney, Australia.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, much less an international long-distance relationship. (Or, as I like to think of it, a “longest distance” relationship.)
We met on a press trip in South Australia during the Best Jobs in the World competition. Although he initially dismissed me as “another loud Canadian” (fair enough), we quickly became friends, bonding over our mutual interest in travel and working abroad. Okay, and we may have also bonded over our mutual interest in whisky.
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