In my year of falling in love with women, a few friendships fell away.
Some of those moments rocked me to my core. Some felt very natural, like waves pulling back into the sea, becoming an indistinguishable part of the ocean once again.
But overwhelmingly, what happened, when I wasn’t expending all of my energy, my love, my tenderness into the container of a romantic relationship (which is also incredibly beautiful and sacred, I know) is that I experienced a new type of love, a type of love that feels like drinking real spring water directly from the source and only then realising how dehydrated you are.
In my year of being single, I gained the type of perspective you can only receive from having distance from something that has consumed your a great chunk of your life for more than fifteen years.
In my year of being single, I discovered the absolute joy of living with and loving my friends.
On tiny Spanish islands, on the south coast of France, in suburban Osaka, in flower filled Melbourne homes.
In my year of being single, I have never heard the words I love you so often, and truly, deeply received them.
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In 2022 I was in a ‘ticks all the boxes’ relationship.
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