When people say “distance makes the heart grow fonder”, I always want to laugh a little.
Because whoever said that clearly never tried holding onto love across continents.
Between 17 and 21, I lived in a long-distance relationship.
On and off. He was my high school sweetheart, my college comfort, my early working-life constant.
We had more than seven years of history, the kind that made you believe love could survive anything.
Imagine living just five minutes’ walk from each other, spending every spare moment together from late-night mamak runs to lazy weekend hangouts and then suddenly having to figure out time zones.
It was one extreme to another, from sharing meals side by side to watching each other eat through a pixelated screen.
But here’s the truth: long-distance is not for the faint-hearted.
Not for the insecure.
Not for the ones who need constant reassurance.
And definitely not for those carrying the weight of past mistakes.
Trust Becomes the Main Character
Trust becomes the heartbeat of a long-distance relationship.
Without it, everything crumbles, slowly, painfully.
There were nights when he didn’t text back for hours, and my mind would spiral.
Was he out? Was he okay? Was he… with someone?
The distance didn’t create my insecurities, but it gave them room to grow.
I learned that trust isn’t just about believing your partner won’t cheat.
It’s about trusting that they still choose you, every day, even when you’re not there to see it.
If you’re in a long-distance relationship, ask yourself honestly: do I trust this person enough to let them live a life apart from mine, without feeling threatened by it?
Space Isn’t Distance, It’s Breathing Room
At some point, I made the mistake of thinking we could make up for distance with more communication.
So we texted constantly, called every night, updated each other on every small detail and yet, somehow, it started to feel like too much.
You start missing each other less and monitoring each other more.
It took me a while to realise that love doesn’t need to be proven every hour.
Giving space isn’t a sign of disinterest, it’s a sign of maturity.
When you both allow each other to breathe, to grow, to just be, the relationship feels lighter. Healthier.
Because love from afar isn’t about constant contact, it’s about consistent connection.
Schedule the Conversations That Matter
Long-distance couples often fall into two extremes: either you’re constantly glued to each other’s phones, or you talk so little that you start drifting.
The sweet spot is somewhere in between.
What worked for us (at least for a while) was setting a time to talk.
Not every second of the day, just moments that mattered, a quick call before bed, a voice note about something funny that happened, a random “I miss you” when words felt heavy.
It’s not the frequency, it’s the intent.
I remember a quote from Tim Bradford in The Rookie:
“It’s long distance. He’ll be single soon enough. Long distances aren’t relationships – the day-to-day support, the way you weave your lives together, that’s a relationship. Chatting on Zoom is a friendship at best.”
That one stung.
Because it’s true, love isn’t built on screen time, it’s built on presence.
But maybe that’s why long-distance hurts so much.
You can be emotionally close, yet physically missing from each other’s lives.
Know Your End Game
At some point, you have to ask: Where is this going?
When I left for the UK, we promised to “figure it out later”.
But “later” can stretch endlessly when no one defines what comes after.
Without a shared goal, long-distance turns into waiting and waiting can quietly turn into resentment.
The best thing you can do for each other is to have a plan.
It doesn’t have to be a fixed timeline, just something to look forward to.
Maybe it’s reuniting after graduation, maybe it’s moving to the same city or country.
Love needs an anchor.
Otherwise, it just drifts.
Growth Hurts, But It’s Necessary
Being apart changed me. I learned how to find joy in my own company, how to fall asleep without a “good night” text.
It was lonely at times, yes. But it also gave me perspective.
Love isn’t supposed to clip your wings even when you’re far apart, it should help you grow into yourself (cliche, but true).
And if, after all that growth, you still find your way back to each other, that’s how you know it’s real.
Long-distance love will test you in ways you can’t imagine.
It’s not the movie montage of airport reunions and handwritten letters.
It’s the quiet ache of missing someone during ordinary days, the effort to stay connected when life keeps moving on both sides.
Some make it, some don’t. And that’s okay.
Because whether it lasts or not, long-distance love teaches you something important, that love, at its core, isn’t about proximity.
It’s about presence.
And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is love someone from afar, and still choose to keep growing, for yourself.