When Sashi Perera’s meticulously planned destination wedding was called off, she found herself on a personal journey, a “warped version of Eat Pray Love,” dedicating her time to humanitarian work with NGOs across the globe. Upon her return to Australian shores, she met the man who would become her husband. Just six weeks into their burgeoning relationship, a simple question from him irrevocably altered their path together.
This is a story from our Love Stories series, which explores the multifaceted nature of love, encompassing romantic connections, deep friendships, heart-wrenching breakups, and unexpected unions.
In September 2018, I found myself seated in a dimly lit, stylish bar, my fingers idly tracing the rim of a sophisticated cocktail glass. An unsettling sensation, like a colossal, unseen slug, writhed within my gut. Across the table sat the man I’d been seeing for the past six weeks. Things were progressing, perhaps too well. For someone with my dating history, this level of ease was usually a precursor to discovering the object of my affection was either completely uninterested, already partnered, or facing legal troubles. In my experience, the dating pool wasn’t teeming with options; it felt more like a polluted, warming body of water populated by radioactive anomalies.
This particular man, however, possessed kind eyes and a charming dimple that would appear when he was recounting a humorous anecdote, which was often. We’d spent most evenings together after work, our routines oscillating between the serene quiet of his studio apartment and the boisterous energy of my seven-person share house. Even my most discerning housemate, a notoriously tough critic, had conceded that this one was “not a dog.”
Still, I felt it was prudent not to become too attached. Even if he was a rare, exceptional catch, I was scheduled to travel overseas for six weeks. This trip had been planned long before we met, conceived as a reward at the end of my Master’s degree. I was determined not to spend my hard-earned holiday anxiously awaiting his interest upon my return. Until this precise moment, we had artfully sidestepped any discussion of my impending departure.
Mustering all the composure I could, I announced, “I’m totally OK if you see other people after I leave.”
He, in turn, simplified everything.
The Uncomplicated Response
In my estimation, the cardinal sin of modern dating was the expectation of too much, too soon, or indeed, any expectation at all. My itinerary was set: Botswana, Kenya, and Tanzania. Considering our brief acquaintance, the vast differences in time zones, and the notoriously patchy mobile reception I anticipated during my travels, the entire endeavour felt akin to a five-year expedition to Jupiter.
He looked at me, his expression one of genuine concern. “Sashi,” he began, his voice gentle, “this is the most physically uncomfortable I’ve seen a person be in real life. Is that what you want?”
I shifted uncomfortably, attempting to quell the internal slug. To my horror, it escaped my lips as I stammered, “No.”
I braced myself for an extended, awkward silence. Instead, he offered, “Me neither. I’ll be at the airport when you get back.”
His words were so straightforward, so easy to believe. He shared my passion for travel and made it clear that I should fully embrace my holiday without any reservations about our connection.
Tangible Connections Across Continents
Despite his reassuring words, I’m not one to leave things entirely to the whims of the universe. It seems far too preoccupied with keeping planets in orbit to concern itself with individual romantic entanglements. Therefore, before my departure, I discreetly hid six letters throughout his apartment. My intention was to provide him with something tangible, a small gesture of reassurance should any anxieties arise.
While I am inherently an anxious person, throughout my six-week journey, I experienced a remarkable absence of stress regarding our communication. There was no nagging urge to check in, yet I found myself wanting to connect. I sent him voice notes whenever the patchy reception allowed, and he reciprocated in kind. Every Sunday, I sent a message detailing the location of the next hidden letter. My favourite voice notes to receive were those sent after he had read one of my letters. As the weeks unfolded, each time his voice, carried across the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean, reached me, my feelings for him deepened.
I cherished every moment of my travels, but as our plane descended towards Melbourne, I gazed out the window at the scattered lights twinkling in the darkness below. An overwhelming impatience to see him surged through me. I had only lived in Melbourne for about eighteen months, but in that moment, a rare and profound certainty settled within me: this city, and this man, were home. Charlie was waiting at the airport to greet me, precisely as he had promised. We’ve been an inseparable unit ever since.
Navigating the Currents of Partnership
Of course, no relationship is entirely devoid of turbulence. What significant journey ever is? Shortly after my return, we decided to move in together, and, to put it mildly, it was a steep learning curve. He missed the quiet solitude of his bachelor pad, while I yearned for the lively hum of my previous share house. We hailed from vastly different backgrounds and cultures, possessed fiercely independent spirits, and were equally stubborn. It took us a considerable amount of time to learn the art of conceding ground in arguments that ultimately held little consequence. We are still honing this skill, striving to achieve it more swiftly with each disagreement.
In tandem, we weathered the storms of the global pandemic, endured lockdowns, mourned the loss of loved ones and friends, navigated miscarriages, and underwent surgeries and IVF treatments. These significant life events occurred in rapid succession. Sometimes, love is about finding yourself wandering through the depths of hell, yet still feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the hand you are holding.
Nearly eight years have passed, and what remains constant is that Melbourne is our home, and my eagerness to see Charlie is undiminished. This feeling persists, whether he’s been away for a week performing shows or simply nipped out for a quick errand. Each time I pull into our driveway, I feel a genuine excitement about walking through the door and sharing my day with him. For me, that unwavering anticipation is the very essence of love.
