'I spent 5 days with a man I met travelling. Then I moved to the other side of the world to be with him.'

As soon as I saw the palm trees out of the plane window as we landed, I questioned what I was doing there. A few months prior I had met an American man while on holiday in Italy, enjoyed a whirlwind romantic weekend with him, a follow up whirlwind three days in Paris, and now, after a summer of WhatsApp messaging, I was in Los Angeles to stay with him for six weeks.

Upon reflection I hadn’t really thought any of this through. If a handsome American guy invites you stay with him in Hollywood you say yes, right? No need to ponder too hard or be pragmatic! More so if you’re a writer, at least I might get a book out of this, even if your friends and family articulate that you may have really lost the plot this time.

In any case I seem to be the type of person who happily jumps off cliffs, then panics, then pulls the parachute and enjoys a (usually) safe landing. I have the tendency to do things out of order - in this instance meeting someone, sharing intense physical time with them, then getting to know them and then moving in with them pretty swiftly, all whilst exhausting my passport in the process.

Watch: The Horoscopes tries virtual dating. Post continues after video.

Prior to our American rendezvous, each time I would say goodbye to him at a European airport I was convinced that was the last time I would see him. It would tug my heartstrings in the process but I would do my best to pull on my feminist narrative instead in order to cope - reminding myself that I was in Europe for me, for my work, and not to chase random men! Yet then I’d find myself pining, literally out of little Italian windows overlooking the picturesque countryside, my fundamentally romantic tendencies spurring me on to the next leg of this amorous adventure.

As I disembarked my plane in L.A. I became suddenly convinced that he wouldn’t be collecting me from the airport. "This is ridiculous, of course he’s not coming" I frantically thought as I awaited my overstuffed suitcase at the baggage carousel. I sent him a slightly panicked message on WhatsApp saying I was here as I mentally conjured up a back-up-plan to stay in Santa Monica for the week alone, and then fly home. 

But he was there, through the airport doors and holding a bunch of flowers. It was happening. I was in a city I had never been to and about to move in with my long distance fling for six weeks. Our safe word was flexi-ticket, in that we both knew our acute arrangement was rather out of the ordinary and that we would have to have an out if it wasn’t working. For now, though we were together, with a common goal, to figure out whether we could really become a 'we'.

Going from long distance to no distance is about as intense as it gets. The first few days of my time there were a blur of bed, going out and meeting his friends, gasping with glee every time I saw the Hollywood sign, all set against the outrageously wet weather the usually sunny city was experiencing, just to add to the extremes.

Image: Supplied.

In being together, finally, our love began to brew. At last the feelings we both had for each other were allowed to be planted and to grow. Even if I longed for more wardrobe space, and he felt I talked a lot, all of it was eclipsed by the fact we were actually together and got to hold each other every night.

This is all to say we still didn’t entirely know each other yet. At the end of the day we don’t just live on other sides of the Pacific ocean, but we are each from different cultural backgrounds, despite all the surface similarities. As the weeks unfolded our differences quickly began to show, from things as obvious as driving on different sides of the road, to differing opinions on how to make a cup of tea (though in hailing from a country full of a coffee drinkers, it was a miracle he even owned a proper kettle), to the fact that he thinks I should sue a doctor who missed a serious bone break in me a few years ago, while I’m happy to let it slide because mistakes happen and for me healthcare is free.

Then there are the more mundane things. When you’re still in a mode of seduction how do you deal with domesticities and personal up keep with little physical time apart? Do you pretend you’re always on top of the dishes despite your messy tendencies, or do you allow yourself to relax a little? Do you discreetly tidy up your lady garden while he’s at work or do you just go and get a wax then do your best not to let him see you nude for 24 hours? Being so freshly in love I didn’t really want to acknowledge that I perpetually leave cupboards open while he leaves his socks on the floor, or that I’m an occasionally hairy human and that he watches too much television. The intense romance did manage to distract from most of the domesticity thankfully. 

Then there’s the city itself. He actually happens to have an Australian passport, a fact that my mother is thrilled about as she foresees our future down under. Yet in reality Los Angeles is his established domain, and, visas aside, my work means it’s easier for me to relocate there, not to mention it’s the showbiz capital of the world overflowing with opportunity for young(ish) creatives and tall poppies alike.

Before I met him I had actually been thinking about L.A. First of all, it happened to be the place I missed travelling to in 2020. It’s also a city in the thick of what’s culturally current. As I left my small flat in Melbourne late last year, putting my precious things in storage and setting off for an Italian adventure followed by time with family, something inside of me told me I wanted more from life and that I wasn’t really coming back. L.A. for me seems a good next step, romantic prospects or otherwise.

Image: Supplied.

As for our future as a couple, it's still cocktail of romantic extremes yet to be properly mixed. I’m back in my part of the world now and to cope we have formed a loose plan for the year ahead, which will hopefully end in me relocating. However, until then we each need to get our ducks in order back home. Any permanent change requires proper foundations (and proper work visas).

Life can take the most swift and unexpected turns. This long distance love affair has reminded me of that. One unassuming, jet-lagged Hinge swipe in the middle of the night now means I’m looking at an entirely different potential life plan. In any case at least I’ll get a book out of it, and this article is a good start. 

You can follow Charlotte on Instagram here.

Feature Image: Supplied.