Being engaged across the oceans was somehow a little bit better than just dating long distance. I’m not sure if it was the reassurance of the ring, or the impending permanent togetherness that did it, but the seven weeks steadily ticked by.
After a couple of days back at work, I had a long conversation with BB and decided to quit my job. I was working in retail and there was no way I was getting time off over Christmas, especially as I’d just taken six weeks unpaid leave. I really, desperately wanted to spend some real time with my Boy when he came home and thought that I would easily find a similar low-responsibility, low-paying job again in the new year. BB’s classes would only start in middle February so we would both be on holiday for two whole months! I know most couples never get to spend that kind of time together, and it seemed pretty indulgent, but then I figured that if we could manage it, why the hell not?
Until then, I celebrated my 30th in style, organised girls’ nights to introduce my old girls to my new girls, visited BB’s family to share in missing him and continued at work until the day before Boy arrived. Then the day actually came, at long last, the day of days. Before I knew it, I was on my way to the airport to pick up one special delivery. My Beautiful Boy, my man.
It was unreal, and at the same time hyper-real. Suddenly, finally, we were in our home country, amongst our friends and family. Here we had our pasts and here, now, we were dreaming of a future. Together. Forever. Lucky, lucky, lucky me.