Gen Z Speaks: 2 months into a new relationship, we had to date long-distance. This is what it taught me about intimacy and connection

My partner and I crossed paths towards the end of 2019, while studying at different universities in Edinburgh, Scotland.
We were set apart from the start: He’s from Malaysia, and I’m from Singapore. But we didn’t expect to be parted from each other so soon.
We spent just two months together before the Covid-19 pandemic struck, forcing us back to our home countries. 
Thus began a 15-month stretch of long-distance dating, divided into two legs — one from March to September 2020, and another from May 2021 to January 2022.
Having never visited each other’s cities, we struggled to visualise each other’s daily lives and relied heavily on video calls and photographs. But even with modern technology, connection across physical separations cannot be guaranteed. 
Countless conversations got cut short due to poor Wi-Fi or last-minute plans. Given that we hadn’t spent much time together in person, virtual communication proved tricky as we were not used to each other’s tones and reactions, which sometimes caused frustration and disappointment — the core of which was a sense of disconnection and a desire to hash it out in person. 
Coupled with the uncertainties of the ongoing pandemic, there were times it felt tortuous and never-ending.
On the flip side, being closed off from the outside world made us more open and vulnerable with each other. Early in the relationship, we set boundaries, discussed fears and anxieties, and swapped childhood stories.
In September 2020, Singapore’s borders with Malaysia were tightly shut and would stay so until 2022.
We chose to spend the next eight months continuing our studies together in Scotland. But the reunion, though long-awaited, initially felt bittersweet and strange. After becoming accustomed to seeing and hearing each other through video and flattened digital transmissions, meeting in person felt almost like encountering a stranger.
We had to get accustomed to physical habits and relearn routines, both our own and each other’s. It also felt like we had a silent agreement to cherish the limited time together. After all, we didn’t know when the next bout of long distance would start again.
Truth be told, this made for a lot of particularly hard, isolated days during this time — but I wouldn’t exchange the toughest of these for anything. It taught me not to take things for granted, not even mundane things like getting groceries or doing laundry together.
Still, doubts lingered in my mind: With him graduating and returning to Malaysia while I still had a year left in Scotland, how long would this last? Even if we did make it through all that, how were we going to eventually close the gap?
When the eight months were up, it was a harder goodbye because there was no end in sight. I knew this second round of long-distance was going to be even tougher than the first.
I was in my final year of university, with assignments, exams and my dissertation at their most intense. My partner found a job in Malaysia that took up much of his time. Further complicating things was an eight-hour time difference, which we had to spend much of our limited free time contending with and working around. 
Throughout it all, the uncertainty of when we could bridge the geographical gap between us weighed heavily on our minds.
We learned the importance of compromise, putting effort into changing our routines in order to match up free times, and communicating as much as possible. We made intentional efforts to strengthen our bond: Virtually meeting each other’s families, sharing an account for updates on days we couldn’t talk, and even starting a “count-up” log to track our time apart, which motivated us to keep going on difficult days. 
We scheduled date nights — and didn’t skimp on them either, indulging in multiplayer Steam games, karaoke sessions, movie nights on platforms like Scener, and sending gifts and food to each other’s families.
We also started getting on Skype calls not to talk, but to leave a window of connection open as we went about our routines, allowing us to share mundane aspects of our lives with each other and building our shared intimacy in a way that did not impede our schedules and commitments.
Upon graduating, I returned to Singapore in May 2022. The opening of Singapore’s borders with Malaysia in December 2021 had also brought a profound sense of relief. While the physical separation remained, knowing that we were no longer restricted by closed borders was a big load off our minds.
My partner quickly secured a job in Singapore and moved here, a transition that presented brand new challenges: From balancing family visits in both countries to making decisions about settling down and housing arrangements, all while striving for a work-life balance.
Being in the same city brought comfort, allowing us to explore each other’s childhood neighbourhoods, meet each other’s families and friends, and immerse ourselves in each other’s lives and cultures.
Despite my partner’s constant reassurances, the sacrifices he’s made to leave his home country for mine weigh on me. He can’t see his family and friends as frequently as before, and misses significant events like birthdays and funerals.
On my end, I try to help him plan out his leaves and flights, and accompany him whenever he goes back to Malaysia — aiming to support him while building stronger connections with his family.
Dating long-distance for as long as we did definitely affected our relationship, especially at such a young age. But it made a lot of positive impact too. 
One example is the evolution of our communication: Moments where we struggled to understand each other’s tone and body language taught us to share our thoughts and feelings with each other more directly and openly.
Our long-distance stints have also underscored the importance of a strong foundation and friendship in a romantic relationship. Without a mutual commitment to building a strong emotional bond and supporting each other through hard days, any obstacles — geographical distance included — can feel overwhelming.
We’re fortunate that our families have been incredibly supportive from the beginning, taking time to get to know each other over meals and consistently prioritising our needs and aspirations. It couldn’t have been easy for them to watch us embark on this journey amid the uncertainties of the pandemic.
Any long-distance relationship isn’t easy, whether it’s romantic or otherwise — but they also offer plenty of opportunities that would be impossible in a “conventional” relationship. If you keep the faith and hope, the distance stops being a hindrance and becomes an incredible means of deeper connection.
As for me, I’ve stopped fixating on the obstacles in my way. Instead, I’m choosing to focus on how we’re going to overcome them together.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Nicole Chan, 24, is a communications strategist by trade, and a digital native by passion. Driven by areas where passion meets purpose, she is keen on creating unique narratives for brands and igniting conversations for topics close to her heart such as intersectionality, DE&I, and sustainability.