This post is the fourth in a series. (Please read the posts here and here and here first, if you haven’t yet!)
When you first invited me on your trip to Australia and New Zealand, it was off the cuff. You did this a lot. You didn’t think things through. You didn’t have a filter.
I had learned to temper my expectations.
When you broached the subject a second time, I asked, “Are you serious?” And, when you nodded, I let myself wander off into daydreams involving scuba-diving the Great Barrier Reef with you.
I booked my flights and then devolved into fits of apprehension as the 24-hour cancellation window narrowed. I called my therapist from my car in the middle of the workday, crying. Have I made a mistake that will cost me a healthy relationship? Or my happiness in general? I asked. That’s a story for another day.
I felt excited in the weeks leading up to our trip, but apprehension continued to predominate. You arrived in Australia earlier than me, and our communication over the days of distance was, at best, strained.
Do you still want me to come? I wondered.
The flight was long, but I landed in sunny Australia, grateful for summer. It was my first experience traveling with a partner.
But were we really partners? Not quite. We had dated for several months, and we would continue to date for several more, but you were careful in keeping me out of your Facebook photos and videos. You were careful to refer to me as your “friend.” You said that traveling with someone was a prerequisite to a serious relationship.
Our dating status wasn’t much clearer when the trip ended than when it started, though. It took some further convincing to solidify the relationship.
And then, as soon as I persuaded you, I recognized: a healthy relationship should not take such force.
