Moving to the other side of the world on a whim was the bravest thing I’ve ever done. I’d never traveled on my own, but there I was, thousands of miles from home and starting a new life in a city where I didn’t know a soul. The thrill of it all lasted a few weeks, then the loneliness struck and I ended up in a relationship with someone I didn’t even like. I seriously regret it.
- I didn’t make any new friends. When I moved to Australia, I was inspired and motivated to meet new people and form new friendships. I went out by myself, met friends of friends, chatted to bartenders, signed up for Bumble BFF and went on friend dates. I was exhilarated until I was exhausted. As an introvert, putting myself out there socially and meeting new people took an insane amount of energy and effort. I craved the ease of my friendships back home and the comfort of close relationships. Then I met a guy who was easy, uncomplicated and had a lot of free time. I took the easy way out and stopped making an effort to meet new people or do anything on my own. I used him as a crux, a safety net for times when I was lonely.
- I didn’t leave my comfort zone. My goal and the underlying reason for my move to Australia was to escape my comfort zone. In my first few weeks, I grabbed life by the balls. I went on solo road trips, hiking adventures, music festivals and tried kite surfing with one of my Airbnb hosts. When I started dating this guy, rather than going on solo adventures, I went out to eat, to the movies, to the mall. I did all these mundane things I could have done at home in America.
- I became less confident. Once I established a relationship, I retreated into my shell. I stopped making an effort to become a more confident and outgoing person. I let him take the lead, make decisions, organize nights out and control conversations. I felt out of place and didn’t make an effort to change that. I took the back seat and ended up an even less confident person than I was when I went to Australia.
- I lost brain cells engaging in dull conversation. Rather than having interesting conversations with new, cultured, well-traveled people like I had intended, I spent a lot of time trying to spark a decent conversation with the person I was dating. We had absolutely nothing in common and he completely lacked depth. I thrive on deep, meaningful, intelligent conversation and was hungry to learn new things yet spent the entire time with this person talking about surface level BS and low-level minutia.
- I engaged in meaningless sex. In my opinion, sex should be passionate and with someone significant. Even though we were dating, I may as well been hooking up with a stranger. There was no emotion, no connection, no passion and therefore barely any orgasms.
- I became dependent on him. Because I was new in town and living in his country, I started to depend on him for everything. I let him take care of me, I became friends with his friends, and when he went out of town, I was lost. Rather than embracing my independence and the uncomfortableness of being in a new place, I accepted it, spent a lot of time at home, and became ashamed of myself.
- I wasted a lot of time. I was young, I was in a new country, I was living in a city for the first time in my life… and I wasted it. I shrunk and I let my fear get the best of me. I didn’t grow, I didn’t learn anything new, I didn’t experience anything culturally significant. I didn’t make any lasting friendships and I didn’t become a better, more confident person.
- He ended up getting hurt. In the end, as I eagerly packed up my bags and celebrated my return home, he got hurt. Regardless of the fact that I was completely detached and not into him, I still participated in the relationship. I acted as a girlfriend and did the girlfriend things knowing full well that when I left Australia at the end of my visa, I wouldn’t keep in touch and I wouldn’t go back. For me, he was a filler, company, someone to pass the time with. Unfortunately, he was in love and that was the most unfair thing of all.
