I had just completed my first round of egg freezing when I realised my relationship of two years was not going to last.
After being single the majority of my adult life (eight years give or take), this guy was meant to be 'The One'.
I had been patient. I'd sat through countless first dates, attended what felt like a million weddings on my own, held out and refused to settle.
I'd beaten the odds and met a nice guy with a nice family on the apps, took it slowly (unheard of for me), followed all the rules, eventually moved in with him and was enjoying a romantic cocktail over dinner one night when he told me he'd been offered a job in Denver, Colorado. And he was taking it.
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In an instant, I realised my dreams of the white picket fence, 2.5 kids and some sort of Doodle dog were much, much further away than I had thought. I felt something die (hope? Our future? My eggs?) deep inside.
After slogging our way through eight months of long distance, with a whopping 16-hour time difference and 14,100km between us - we realised neither of us wanted to rejoin the other and give up our careers and lives. Not for a relationship that was already sinking.