My Aussie-versary | One Year in Melbourne

So this week, my Australian life turns one. I’ve survived as an Aussie for one whole year. Yay me! I’ve tolerated temperatures of 46 degrees, cooked on barbecues more than I ever thought possible, developed a weird awkward mini Aussie accent and even eaten wallaby. Oh, and the word heaps is legit part of my daily vocabulary. For this I will be eternally sorry.

So yeah, this time one year ago I touched down in Melbourne with nothing but 27kgs worth of my old life, a working holiday visa and a heart full of hope that I’d done the right thing. If I’m honest, moving to the other side of the world for a BOY wasn’t exactly something I EVER saw myself doing. And by that I mean I was probably more likely to become a Jehovah’s Witness than succumb to that thing people call lurve. 

But somehow, here I am, one year on. And in terms of how the relationship is going, last night I chugged in excess of 6 glasses of champagne at a wedding and sang Horses by Daryl Braithwaite at the top of my lungs with my boyfriend’s entire family into my Snapchat camera, before preceding to adopt a ‘no sitting’ policy and physically DRAG said boyfriend’s dad and sister onto the dance floor because an Australian song I’d never heard had come on and I wanted moral support. So yeah, I think it’s going pretty well.

In all seriousness, yes, I completely did the right thing. Do I miss home? Of course. Did I cry when the song ‘Home’ by Michael Buble was played at the aforementioned wedding? PERHAPS. (No, you’re pathetic.) Do I have weird emotional days near-ish to my period when I get all freaked out at the future and picture us getting deported from every country and wind up living in a tipi in Utah on a ranch with nothing but tumbleweed to amuse us? Sometimes. But really, none of that matters because I know it’ll work out somehow, and even if we do end up in Utah, we’ll totally get an online Kmart order delivered and make it homely with some Pinterest-worthy photo frames and maybe a marble soap dispenser or twelve.

In no way is this meant to come across totally narcissistic, but if you’re ever found asking yourself, ‘do long distance relationships work’?, take a step back. Long distance relationships have such a bad rep, and I really don’t get why. For one, it’s totally outdated. Okay yes, if this was the 1920s and I had had to spend 2014 waiting for a telegram to clarify whether Jess was dead, alive or sleeping with a ho-bag from Uni, yes that would’ve been hard. But nobody has taken the chance to factor in Skype, FaceTime, WhatsApp, Viber and the retained eternal magic of snail mail (hand sent Valentines cards are the best Valentines cards. Just sayin’).

If you really, really want something to work, it can. Sure, you have to live in this weird limbo life that’s just one amalgamation of the loneliness of being single without actually any of the fun parts, with a bit of tiredness from late night phone calls across time zones and a big phone bill thrown in for lols. Oh, and you’ll spend a fortune on postage. Did somebody say £55 to send some Christmas pressies? Oh yeah, those hot figures were part of a sweet December serenade I received from Royal Mail. Thanks for nada!

If you’re willing to commit 100%, your long distance relationship CAN work. And it can even be better than any other relationship you’ve ever been in. That’s right kids, you too could see the look on your friends and relatives faces when you tell them you’re dropping everything to move 11,000 miles for a boy (banter) and YOU TOO could spend $7000 on a visa just to be together. Oh it’s such a magical ride. Soz.

FYI, right before you plonk the $7000 on your MasterCard, it is also 100% okay to flick through all the hot clothes you could buy instead in your head, and all the hot islands you could prance around on, and consider sacking the whole lot in for about a nanosecond (sorry, Jess love you).

But the best feeling, really, is knowing you wouldn’t take any of that. The reality is, that person marks a start in your life, rendering everything prior a distant memory.

Sure, you might have to drop everything and move thousands of miles, you might put flight after flight on your credit card, you might spend money that was earmarked for a house deposit on trips just to be together.

Would I want it any other way? Of course not.

Never ditch someone or something because it seems too hard, or because someone somewhere once told you that they knew someone who knew someone who’s long distance relationship went down the shitter. For every LDR down the pan, there’s a thousand ‘normal’ relationships down there, too. Don’t blame distance for a decision you’ve made yourself, and don’t make distance question anything.

Get yourself a hot chocolate, watch Going The Distance with Drew Barrymore and everyones favourite weirdly-ugly-yet-somehow-still-hot dork, Justin Long, and repeat after me. Fuck. The. Miles.

I’m off to eat vegemite, watch Seinfeld and practice verse two of Advance Australia Fare and pray The Queen and the corgis can one day forgive me.

Toodles xxx

 

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9 reasons why it doesn’t matter if you haven’t got your shit together yet

  1. Nobody ever truly has their shit together. You could be riding your unicorn down Old Brompton Road with ten trillian quid in the bank and you’d probably still be having a meltdown about what kind of brie to buy at Waitrose.
  1. Just like your tastes change with age and status, so do your worries. Just because you think you’ll have your job, finances and relationship ducks in a row one day doesn’t mean you won’t have other (likely more important) things to worry about. Can I get a ‘fuck no’ for mammograms, menopause and the three yearly treat from mr postman that is your smear test reminder? I think we all thought once we get that first one at 25 out the way it gets easier, but I’ll bet ya it doesn’t!
  1. It turns out your twenties aren’t what we thought they were in our teens. If you’re thinking SHIT I thought I’d have kids by 27 at the latest, you ain’t alone. But next time you start to think you and your aging ovaries will die alone, eggless and childless, toss on your heels and go have an espresso martini and ask yourself if you really think you’re ready to be at home playing with megablocks and arguing over who’s meant to be on pooey nappy duty.
  1. Even when you do start to get your shit together, you probably won’t even realise it. Tbh I’m not entirely sure when I stopped spending nights in clubs with my head over the toilet before rocking back out like a wounded donkey for one last chorus of I Wanna Dance With Somebody, and when I started working freelance and living in a beautiful apartment with my boyfriend that has a marble bathroom and an infinity pool (soz and that)…. And I’m still all over the place.
  1. There’s always somebody worse off than you. Whether it’s through fault of their own or not. Okay sure, so you’re actually considering paying for Tinder now instead of spending weekends at farmers markets in matching tweed like you dreamed it. So what? At least you’ve got a job and you’re earning a living. You’re not on the streets, and you’re lucky enough to have your health. That’s some metaphorical shit, metaphorically together, right there.
  1. The news isn’t necessarily true. Now this is a bold statement for me, as I am one to immediately vow never to touch something like blue tac ever again if there’s the slightest possibility that it’s been proven to be carcinogenic. But in my clear mind, the news really is scaremongering us about having kids. “Women who wait until they’re over 30 for kids are at risk”. YEAH YEAH okay but when am I like, meant to travel the world and find myself or spend all my money on Asos or pay a small fortune to live in London only to end up moving further out to commute on a stinky train every day. WHEN WILL I HAVE TIME FOR THAT? Now. Do it all now. My mum had me at 33, I’m an only child and I turned out just about okay – and she’s still kickin’ too. Having kids later in life might be more risky, but so was that 80th tequila at Freshers week, and you survived that.
  1. You just might be on the path to something you’re meant to do. You might be sitting at your desk at a job you hate, waiting for this ‘shit’ to be ‘together’. Trust me, just wait it out. I always say the worst paths lead to the best people – and the best things. If I hadn’t made some of the stupid mistakes I’ve made in my time, some of the amazing stuff wouldn’t have happened to me. I once turned town an amazing marketing job in London where I basically would’ve schmoozed with One Direction on an average Thursday, based on a gut feeling I shouldn’t do it. For a while I wondered if I’d made the worst mistake of my entire career, but I found my way and I’ve never been more sure I did the right thing.
  1. Other people probably haven’t got their shit together either. Much like my previous post on social image, we only really know the very best of other people – because that’s all they tell you. Everybody worries they’re not where they’re meant to be, even if they’re already there. That mate who’s up at the crack of dawn for spinning before high tailing it off wearing a Zara pant suit and power bun to her managerial role could be neck deep in Big Mac’s by 9pm and swiping right to anyone who’ll have her, for all we know.
  1. At the end of the day, things’ll probably never work out exactly how you thought they would. Stop wasting time trying to press the fast forward button. Just enjoy life on pause for a second. Unforch, Netflix don’t yet stream reruns of your twenties, so you’ll have to enjoy them live instead. Live? Imagine that. Chances are, wherever you’re at right now, is exactly where you need to be right at this very moment in time. One day, you’ll realise.

Until next time,

Coco x