In December 2024, I arrived in Sydney, excited for an adventure. A friend was getting married in Australia, and I had originally planned the trip with my ex. After our breakup, he backed out, but I decided to go anyway. I was thinking about quitting my job and moving back to the Netherlands, so even though my future was uncertain, I was ready for a holiday. I planned a week with friends in Sydney and Newcastle, a week traveling up the east coast with another friend, and a final week alone.
On New Year’s Eve, I’d spent the day at a boat party on Sydney Harbour when a friend mentioned she was meeting an old flame at a fireworks event in Bondi. She told me he had a nice single brother named Ben and showed me a photo—he had a mustache, wore a tank top, and didn’t seem like my type at all. I wasn’t interested and just wanted to stay with my friends.
But when her taxi arrived, she pulled me in with her—thank goodness she did. In person, Ben looked nothing like the photo—tall, handsome, with a big smile. He made me laugh right away. We kissed within 10 minutes of meeting, about half an hour before midnight.
Ben had been sick with food poisoning and hadn’t been in the best mood until we arrived, but he said he instantly forgot about all of it. There was an immediate connection, and we both felt like we had nothing to lose—after all, we lived too far apart to ever see each other again.
The next day, Ben and his brother invited my friend and me to a music festival. We worried it might be awkward, but Ben and I picked up right where we left off, running between stages like kids. The following morning, I had to leave for the wedding in Newcastle. I kissed Ben goodbye at the ferry terminal in Manly, wondering if I’d ever see him again but hoping I would. We started texting right away, and I was so distracted I missed my connecting train.
Later in the trip, I got an ear infection just before a five-day scuba diving trip on the Great Barrier Reef. I canceled—and part of me was relieved, knowing it meant five unplanned days. Ben was competing in a triathlon in Nelson Bay and jokingly asked if I wanted to watch him “drown.” It turned out to be an invitation to stay with his aunt and uncle for the weekend. I booked a flight immediately.
At that point, I saw it as just a fun holiday romance—nothing serious. Being so far from home gave me a “why not” attitude. We both knew long-distance between London and Sydney wouldn’t work, so we decided to enjoy each other’s company while we could.
Over the next few days, we stayed with his family, slept in a tent on the beach, and even did a mini-triathlon together. On the way back to Sydney, Ben held my hand the entire time—neither of us wanted to let go. He booked flights to Melbourne with me for the Australian Open that week, and I delayed my return flight so we could have an extra day together.
When we said goodbye at Melbourne airport, we decided to try making long-distance work after all. We planned to meet in Scotland six weeks later and called each other every day in between. On that trip, I met all of Ben’s family and friends, and after four days, he asked me to be his girlfriend. This time, when we parted ways, it felt different—we knew we wanted to make it last.This wasn’t just a temporary goodbye until our next trip—it was goodbye until we could live together. Normally, this kind of impulsive decision wasn’t like me, but it felt right, and my friends and family could see that too. They encouraged me to take a leap of faith and see where it led.
Eight weeks later, Ben and I reunited at Sydney airport—this time, I was carrying more than just a suitcase for a holiday.
My first impression of Ben had been spot on. We talked endlessly that New Year’s Eve, and honestly, we haven’t stopped since. He’s still the same fun, charismatic person who makes me feel completely at ease.
For now, Australia is home, but we plan to move back to Europe together someday—whether that’s England, Scotland, or the Netherlands, we’ll figure it out later. The important thing is that we’ll find our home together.
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