I’m falling for a software engineer.

Another American, another getting to know each other other from thousands of miles away.

And weirdly, we’ve banned flirting that gets too sexy.

He says he doesn’t want us to just have a long-distance flirtation. He wants to wait until he’s with me in London, which once he sorts out his house in San Francisco he plans to come over for a proper visit.

The truth is he seems wonderful. He’s geeky, open, strong and caring. We both seem to want the same things. When we Skyped together we just lay looking into each others eyes after talking, and I could see tears in his. Tears because he couldn’t hold me like he wanted to, couldn’t be with me the way he wanted to.

That’s when we knew we had to be careful. How many times do we indulge a relationship like a spoilt child, feeding ourselves on it until there’s nothing left?

We drain the barrel before we even know what it is we’re drinking.

But in the reality, can any relationship, let alone a fledgling one, survive a distance of over 8000 miles? You communicate too much and you risk the flame burning out, too little and you risk ostracising the other person. You want to build and communicate, but you don’t want to smother each other.

A thousand doubts go through my head sometimes, however much I can feel my feelings for him growing.

Can people live between two cities?

Where would our relationship go?

How would it all work?

But when we’re just chatting and geeking out about our favourite films or TV shows I know I can’t walk away. I lose myself in the moment talking with him. Everything he says, almost every gesture he makes confirms what I’ve been looking for. When you feel that much potential with someone, do you just let things drift away?

Whoever said the key to loving was letting go obviously never foresaw the difficulties of building a relationship from London to San Francisco.

“You really need to stop falling for these Americans” said a good friend of mine recently. “We need to find you a nice London boy”.

This past year, I’ve met London boys.

I’ve been chewed up and spat out by London boys.

At this point I don’t really want another London boy; I want Mike.


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