21 Years, 4 Years, and the Art of Delayed Responses

I've known Maulana since 2004. That's 21 years—long enough for him to have made multiple attempts to get closer, and long enough for me to completely miss or ignore all of them. There were moments he probably thought, this is it, she'll finally realize! only for me to either not get it or reply six months after he sent a message. Clearly, romance has never been my strong suit.

But fate—or UX design—has a way of pushing people back into each other's lives. One day, I was tasked with learning the UX of a new app at work, and I realized Maulana was one of the few people I knew who had actually studied man-machine interaction. So, I reached out. This time, without a six-month delay.

Fast forward to now: four years of marriage, spent mostly apart, and I stand by my belief that long-distance marriage is the life hack. People assume it must be hard, but for us, it just works. Distance keeps things interesting, forces better communication, and makes time together feel more intentional. Plus, it drastically reduces unnecessary arguments—like that one time in Copenhagen when I asked him what he wanted to eat, and he answered, "something substantial." Very clear. Not.

My inner circle is small—three people, to be exact: my mother, my brother, and Maulana. I'm not the type to let just anyone in, but with Maulana, I can be my silliest, most unfiltered self. He's my solid ground. He's kind, loving, and one of those rare people who balance left- and right-brain thinking effortlessly. He plays guitar, draws beautifully, takes great pictures, and—by sheer coincidence—shares the same first name as my late grandfather. He's a 10. Well... almost a 10. The thing is, he doesn't eat seafood, which is a glaring character flaw, but love is about compromise.

He is also, let's say, structured. He assigns clothes to specific days of the week—not because he cares about fashion, but because it means he never has to think about what to wear, and they'll all wear out evenly over time. I'm still undecided on whether this is an extreme case of efficiency, mild OCD, or just a Sagittarius thing. And then there's his obsession with VR. Maulana and his VR are like a Jehovah's Witness and his Bible. He will try to convert anyone within range, insisting they have to experience how amazing it is.

Marriage, at its core, is about navigating life's unexpected turns together. Like when I applied for a Schengen visa in 2022, and the Finnish embassy had the audacity to assume I wanted to move there illegally. Their official reason? Not enough evidence that I'd leave the country after the trip. Excuse me? I was so offended that I boycotted the EU entirely in 2023 and dragged Maulana on a month-long trip to Türkiye instead. Take that, Finland.

One of the best parts of our long-distance marriage is that every reunion feels like a vacation—probably because we actually are on vacation. This dynamic keeps our relationship fresh and exciting. Each meeting becomes an adventure, a break from routine, and a chance to create new memories together. It's like hitting the refresh button on our connection every time we see each other.

So here we are, today we hit our fourth wedding anniversary, still living in different places, and I wouldn't have it any other way. To each their own, but if you ask me, long-distance marriage is the best kind of marriage. Happy anniversary, Maulana. I'd say this in person, but, you know... distance.