June 7, 2020
My boyfriend and I recently celebrated our 6 month anniversary. He lives in Córdoba, Argentina. I live in Toronto, Canada. We have spent exactly 6 days together in the same country.
We met while both on vacation last November in Rio De Janeiro, at a pub crawl that both of our friends had to convince us to go to. He spoke little English, and I spoke no Spanish. But it was an instant connection. We spent the week hanging out on the beach, sharing electric scooter rides, drinking caipirinhas, taking advantage of the city’s great nightlife, and talking about our lives back home.
Toward the end of the trip he mentioned that I should visit him in Córdoba in March, where we could road trip around the country, see Córdoba, Buenos Aires, La Pampa, Traslasierra, enjoy wine country in Mendoza, and whatever else we wanted — if we were still talking then. We both went back to our regular lives, and we did, indeed, keep talking. We spoke every day, almost all day. We watched movies together over video chat, debriefed about our days, shared photos and videos, favourite songs, likes, dislikes, values, fears, hopes, and dreams. And as the weeks and months passed, the invitation to visit him was still open. So I booked a flight — for March 11th-25th, 2020. It was so cheap because it was going to take 36 hours to get there with all the stops and layover time.
When I left Toronto on the afternoon of March 11th, whisperings of coronavirus were thick in the air. But restaurants were still open, children were still in school, hand washing was being stressed, but I don’t think the term ‘social distancing’ was even on our immediate radar. I remember feeling like it may not be the best time to be traveling, but I also figured I was going to South America, where there wasn’t a big outbreak of the virus. And I really, really, reeeeally wanted to see him.
During my travels, however, the situation started escalating, it seemed, by the second. Over the course of my first flight to Chicago, Trump had banned travel coming in from Europe. By the next flight to Miami, I was getting news alerts about schools closing for the next three weeks, Trudeau needed to be in self-isolation due to his wife Sophie’s positive covid test results, and so many more concerning alerts from the news, along with friends and family. I was even hearing Argentina was implementing a quarantine for those entering from hot spot zones. My immediate impulse was just to turn right around. I called him, and others, in a panic as to what to do.
I decided to take the final flight. And when I landed in Córdoba, on the morning of Friday, March 13th, his birthday of all days, I realized I was meeting the person I most wanted to see in the entire world. He held me for a long time, letting my tears, along with all the stress and anxiety, melt away. I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.
But the world was changing by the hour and it was clear even by that afternoon that I needed to head back home, and soon. A few hours later, the Argentinian government declared that all outgoing flights would be suspended a few days later. By that night, I had re-booked my flight back home for the coming Sunday, only two days away.
We indulged in those two days together like they were our last on earth. We drove to secluded rivers and natural parks by the lake, just outside the city. He had stocked up on the best dulce de leche, introduced me to the best alfajores in the city, and prepared the best Yerba mate. He had even bought me my own mate set to take back home. We drank wine and ate empanadas by the water, under the starlight. We stayed up late both nights, and I insisted we get ice cream from the place right next to his apartment building, simply because it was open at 3am, and we were wide awake.
It was difficult to say goodbye, especially after only spending 2 days together instead of what should have been 2 weeks. And I flew back home to a much different Toronto than I had left it days ago. So much had changed. But something had changed for me too. I had found my partner, my person.
And because we both have suddenly been experiencing more time at home, we have been able to deepen our quality time together, even if it is 8,000km apart. We watch movies and TV series together over video chat, he helps me with my (currently, still very beginner) Spanish, and I help him with his (now extremely advanced!) English — he is planning on eventually practicing medicine here in Canada or the UK. We have done Zumba classes together, played trivia, made meals and got dressed up and shared the same bottle of wine together for special occasions. He has only recently been able to go outside for walks (instead of just for necessities), so we have introduced (some seriously) socially distant walks together. We share more of our wants, desires, values, and dreams.
I have gotten to know how caring, funny, smart, and incredibly selfless he is, and I have learned to lean on him during difficult or stressful times. I think he feels he is able to lean on me too. He continually surprises me with new ideas of what we can do together, new perspectives on the world, and inspires me to want to get the most out of life, and that that is worth fighting for.
For our six month celebration, he made a virtual scavenger hunt for me in his apartment. Each clue had some form of chocolate attached (he shares my addiction — er, appreciation— for chocolate as well), and a promise that he would wait to open them until we were able to enjoy them together. I played a song that I was working on for him. And while I really can’t wait for the time I will be able to see him again, in person, and hug him and possibly never let him go, I really feel like during this time I have been given the greatest gift of all - the gift of falling in love.
- Anonymous Contributor #3
The author of this post has chosen to remain anonymous. I have assigned a number to contributors who opt to remain anonymous. This is so readers have a sense of the number of different contributors that are involved in this growing community.
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