How is it still four more weeks?! Excuse me while I sulk.

Okay, I’m done now.

At least we’re past the halfway mark now. Every day, we edge a little closer to you being home and soon, we’ll be counting the days until you’re back. πŸ’›

I bought this book a few weeks ago called, “Love Her Wild.” It’s a book of poetry and almost all of it reminds me of you.

It has become my small ritual, my retreat at the end of the day. I flick through the same pages and linger on the poems that seem to fit neatly into my soul.

I want to share one with you here tonight:

“It took me a long time to realise

that I am happiest

not at the parties

or the dinners

or the shows

but at home with you

and just our books

our movies

and our tea.

And wherever we go

for now and forever

we will bring this happy with us

for home lives

inside us now



we go.”

– Atticus

I’ve been thinking about this letter a lot this week, and in truth, I’ve been trying to write it for most of the last two weeks. Mostly because I feel as if I’m on the cusp of what I want to say to you but I can’t quite find the right words. So I’m just going to waffle on and hope I stumble across them here.

I both love and hate to tell people that I met you on Tinder. Love because I find it somewhat silly and frivolous, and it makes me laugh, and hate because it is immediately followed by a deep look of cynicism (which admittedly I would have too, if a friend told me that she had met and fallen in love with a person she swiped right on).

But this morning, I read this articleΒ on the NY Times. It’s in one of my absolute favourite columns calledΒ Modern Love.Β I think I’m obsessed with it because it never fails to surprise and delight me with all the thousands of ways it’s possible for people to love each other. Sometimes the stories go the other way and I am equally as stunned by our remarkable propensity for hurting each other but all in all, the columns make for good reading when you’re lying in bed in the morning, drinking coffee, and trying to procrastinate away your to-do list.

The article has nothing to do with us except that it relates to Tinder and hooking up. It gave me flashbacks to the week that I met you. I began it innocently enough, with no clue that a boy that I had matched with would turn everything upside down. When we first started talking, I thought, well he seems nice enough and the conversation doesn’t bore me to tears or stray into anything weird. Trust meΒ when I say that this is a rarity. It’s astonishing the number of adult men wandering around who are incapable of holding a five minute conversation, or expect that five minutes into the conversation, they can start calling you ‘baby’ and asking what turns you on …

You were interesting and interestED, which not a lot of people are these days I think. And despite only being in the market for some short-term hook up thing, you were kind. And funny.Β So when you asked if I wanted to have drinks with you, I didn’t really have to think about it. Ordinarily, there’s a fair measure of apprehension.

Plus I mean, so cute. πŸ˜„

I wish I remember more detail from that night. I don’t know why I’ve forgotten so much of it because I only had a couple of beers? But in truth, I remember hugging you, and I remember us talking about beers when we first sat down, I remember you touching my arm when we talked about my tattoo, and I remember ordering the Uber while you were in the bathroom.

I remember holding your hand as we walked into my bedroom, and a few things after that.

But my next clearest memory of you is the next morning. I think it’s because instead of the awkward good morning exchanges and attempting to usher you out as quickly as possible, I felt happy and at home with you.Β When you came over again that night, and we sat together on the couch, half kissing, half talking, I felt distinctly like perhaps this was headed in some alternate direction.

But at that point, I didn’t dare let myself believe that there was anything more to it. I was determined to remain as unattached and unsentimental as possible.

We’ve talked about how a large part of my decision to let things roll on with you beyond those first two nights were predicated on the fact that I knew you would be leaving in a few weeks. But I think I also felt like I couldn’t help it. As much as I wanted to hold back, I felt so strongly drawn to you.

Was it like that for you too? Going into it expecting one thing and then suddenly, waking up to a lot more than you had bargained for?

It’s 3:24am now and I still haven’t quite arrived at the thing I want to write about. So I’m going to go to bed and edit this in the morning. Ugh.


Okay. I’m back. I have no idea what the point of this letter was. I think, I’m trying to say that you feel like home to me. You feel like the person I’ve been looking for my whole life. It scares me a little, and I definitely didn’t anticipate that I’d be in the middle of something so serious so soon. But something fell into place when I met you, that had been missing and I could never quite figure out what it was.

Sometimes, I feel annoyed that I’ve been here in Cape Town for years and it’s taken me this long to find you. I wonder what it might have been like if I’d met you when I first moved here. I wonder who you were back then, and if you would have liked who I was.

Have you watched the movieΒ Garden State? It used to be one of my absolute favourites. Primarily because it stars Natalie Portman but also, there’s this one scene that really stuck with me.


This is how I’ve felt for years. Then I met you and being with you feels like home. I think that’s why it was so easy to have you stay here with me and not feel uncomfortable. And conversely, why it’s been so hard having you away.

Sigh. I miss you, obviously. I love you.



Today, I assembled a table – including usage of screw driver and box cutter. I know that you had asked to do it for me before you left, but I find an odd satisfaction in doing these things by myself. They make this apartment feel more like my home, and less like a graveyard of memories.

This has year has brought more learning and growth for me than all 25 years before it.

I’ve experienced the absolute heights of happiness and sadness. I have travelled into the depths of who I am as a person, and grieved loss in a way that I hadn’t conceived of before.

And 6 months ago, I doubted that I would ever truly recover.

But I have also been more vulnerable and courageous this year than ever before, and whatever criticisms there are leveled against me (there are many, most of them probably fair), there can be no claim that I didn’t give it everything I had.

It’s this quality of mine that I hold onto during days and nights when the anxious terror seems endless; that I have always been resilient, always able to continue moving forward and do what has to be done. At heart I suppose, I have always been overly idealistic, perhaps a little too romantic, and all at once enamoured with the idea that my life could be exactly all the things I want it to be.

It is this quality, I think, that has given me the courage to move forward with you.

Nothing about my life is the same as it was a year ago. Literally, not a thing.

I have a completely different job. A year ago, my job was a fire in my soul, surging through any stability and peace I had; part of me thrived in the flames but most of me suffocated. I made the decision to leave that behind not without many nights of restless, racing thoughts. To be entirely defined by my work was the only life that I knew, who would I be without it?

Also this year, I made the decision to get a dog – Wilson. I had twirled the idea around for months, I apartment hunted with the dream in mind. I asked myself all kinds of questions, big and small. The biggest was looking into the future, what would my life look like ten or fifteen years from now? Because if there was even the slightest chance that that picture wouldn’t be able to accommodate a dog, then I knew I shouldn’t go ahead with it. But I realised, like everything else in life, that there would never be a right moment for it. And the only way was to dive right in and figure it out along the way. If the picture didn’t work with Wilson included, then I would change the picture.

This conviction steadied me through some of my worst moments this year. When nothing else remained, and the picture changed so rapidly I could barely keep up, I could rely on this one thing being the same.

And then, of course, there was the apartment. The beloved apartment with its parkade floors and ceiling-to-floor windows and glorious afternoon sunshine and kitchen just big enough for home cooking and dancing while you wait for the kettle to boil.

This apartment has felt more like home than any other place I have ever lived in.

But in the aftermath of this year, I didn’t know if it would ever be anything more than a place that reminded me of how everything fell apart. I say fell apart, though in reality my old relationship was never really put together if I was being honest.

There were certainly weeks when I trembled at the thought of going into the study, and the empty cupboard in my bedroom made my heart race. But night by night, I rewrote every inch of this flat into my own.

I let myself spill out into every room, and one day, a few weeks later, I stopped saying “our apartment”. He was gone: unceremonious, piece by piece and then one morning, nothing.

And then, there cameΒ you.

Unexpected. Overwhelming. Thrilling. Terrifying.

Meeting you was like inhaling fresh air after years of suffocating.

I close this year lighter, happier, and more in love with myself, and my life than ever before. And you too. In love with you too.

You laugh and share with me as if we have done this all our lives.

You’re my best friend.

Sometimes I wish I had met you years ago, but I think that I had lessons to learn and growing to do, and I think that we met at exactly the right time for both of us (though inconvenient for you …).

Being with you looks good on me. I think it’s because when people see us together, we glow and beam and shine and our goodness sort of spills over onto them. At least that’s what I feel like.

I love watching you with Wilson. Seeing how much you love him.

I love that the what-ifs of life don’t scare you.

I love that you’re sincere and reliable in a way that is so exclusively you.

And if I thought that I was crazy, I love that everyone loves you.

Now when I look back at the relationship I was in for so long, I know why it never worked the way I wanted it to. We weren’t right. And I’m grateful that I let go of it in time to meet you and not miss out on this.

Anyway, I’m nearing novel length, so I’m signing off here.

I miss you as always. I hope you’re happy and safe out there. I hope you’re smiling and thinking of us.

Love love love you!