Mostly, my life has been a repeated tale of rejection and disaster when it came to dating

But nothing lasts forever, and when I went to England to study, that story of faulty romance came to an end. I started the semester at the University of Central Lancashire as an enthusiastic, though often confused American.

Then an unexpected turn of events; I met someone 

Amy and I were in a class together which was made significantly more fun by her presence in it. She had hair like an exploding volcano, a temperament to match, and could make me laugh easier than just about anyone I’ve ever met. We hit it off pretty much immediately, talking about anything and everything. We didn't even have that much in common, apart from a love of Doctor Who and a hatred of Stephen Moffat. It didn't seem to matter though, because we just clicked.

But as always seems to happen, there was a problem

She had a boyfriend. He was in the merchant marine, on a ship which wouldn't be coming back to England for a few months. So we were just friends.

One night I asked her to come over to my flat (really just a bedroom), so that she could be a special guest on my weekly Skype chat with my mother’s first grade class. Most of the questions revolved around the existence of the Loch Ness Monster (which she claimed up and down to have seen with her own two eyes), and questions about the Queen and such. After the Skype chat ended, we talked for hours about every conceivable thing. There was a moment near the end, around 2 am, where I wanted to have something more romantic with her than a handshake or a hug. I could tell she was fighting the same urge. We had a few moments like this where something might have happened, but they never did. She was too good of a person to do that to her boyfriend. As for me,  I didn’t want to be the type of guy that would get involved in any sort of cheating, no matter how much I loved being in her company.

So, the semester finished, and I leave England

I'd say the rain was a metaphor for our hearts crying at being separated, but England's just soggy and depressing like that during that time of year. (Note: “that time of year” means August-June).

Fast forward 2 days after I leave the country. She breaks up with her boyfriend, who has just now arrived back in England. We keep talking to each other, and neither one of us feels guilty for revealing our feelings for the other. Unfortunately for both of us, these feelings now reside nearly 4,000 miles distant from each other. The phrase “Damn Atlantic Ocean” might have been thrown around a few dozen times.

That was very nearly 2 years ago now

She’s recently graduated, and is living on a base in Germany, while I’ve started graduate school. Neither of us can afford to go visiting (poking holes in a box and shipping me over is out of the question, right?), so we haven’t seen each other since that rainy day in Britain. We still talk quite often though. We even go through periods of letter writing. I forget sometimes, but she always reminds me. She occasionally even forgives me for forgetting.

You probably wanted this story to end in a tearful reunion, closely followed by a wedding and happy couple. I won’t say that I found love while studying abroad. I certainly found something though, something I never had before, and don’ believe I’ve had since. All I know is how much more I smile than I did before England.