The Early Days

The early days of our relationship had a strange rhythm.

Catarina had left for Chile and Brazil just as everything between us was starting to feel real. We had only known each other for a short time, but already there were all these little signs that something meaningful was happening. Then suddenly, she was away, and we had to carry that feeling across distance.

While she was gone, we each did something that probably says a lot about who we are.

We both got tattoos representing our relationship.

Mine was a line from a Portuguese poem: “que seja eterna enquanto dure” — let it be eternal while it lasts. Hers was a blue and purple heart, interlocking. It was early, yes. Maybe very early. But it felt honest to the moment. We were not pretending it was casual. We were not trying to make it smaller than it was.

The good news was that Catarina missed me too.

So much so that she cut her trip short and came home early. I still remember picking her up from the airport — nervous, excited, and probably trying very hard to seem calmer than I felt. There is something unforgettable about waiting to see someone you have missed, especially when the relationship is still new enough that every moment feels charged with possibility.

Soon after, we had our first date as a couple at Lulu Bar.

It felt different from the dates before. Not because everything suddenly changed, but because something had quietly settled. We were no longer just seeing where things might go. We were choosing to move forward together.

Around that time, Catarina started making fridge magnets of our “firsts.”

Our first date. Our first workout. Our first picture as a couple. Little memories turned into something visible and permanent, placed somewhere ordinary where we could see them every day. I absolutely loved them. They were playful and sentimental in the best way — exactly the kind of thing that made me feel seen, remembered, and included in the way she was building our story.

But the early days were not only romantic dinners and big feelings. They were also logistics.

We lived apart. We both had children. Our parenting schedules were close, but not perfectly aligned. That meant we often had several days together, followed by several days apart. In some ways, that made the time together feel even more special. In other ways, it was hard. We were building something real while still navigating two full lives, two homes, two routines, and the responsibilities that mattered most to each of us.

Eventually, we decided it was time for the kids to meet.

We chose Heritage Park for the first introduction — a place that felt relaxed, open, and easy. We had a picnic there, letting the day unfold naturally instead of making it feel too formal or too serious. Afterward, we went back to my place and ordered pizza for everyone.

It was simple. And because it was simple, it worked.

That day mattered because it was not just about the two of us anymore. It was the beginning of our worlds gently touching. The start of seeing how our lives might fit together beyond dates, restaurants, and stolen time between schedules.

The early days were full of firsts.

First date as a couple. First magnets. First routines. First goodbyes. First reunions. First attempts at blending the people and pieces that made up our lives.

And somewhere in the middle of all that — between airports, tattoos, fridge magnets, parenting schedules, Heritage Park, and pizza — this stopped feeling like something new and started feeling like something we were building.