When I was 23 years old, I made the surprising decision to move nearly 8,000 miles from home. I was desperate to start my post-graduate career with meaningful work, so I joined the Peace Corps to teach English in the South Pacific — the Republic of Vanuatu, to be specific. Instead of finding a career in international development, I found the love of my life.
Looking back, I realize moving to a remote island in the South Pacific was a bold choice for a kid who had never lived outside his home state of Georgia, but I was full of hope and naivete in unequal portions. I was so unprepared for what came next.
If only I had known that my future wife, Danielle, was preparing for the same adventure at the exact same time on the other side of the country.
We met on the first day of our volunteer group’s orientation in Los Angeles. She was also full of hope and naivete — in more equal portions — and she had her own goals for a career in international health, not to mention a boyfriend back home.
Our first encounter wasn’t exactly a meet-cute
I still remember meeting her in the hotel lobby right next to LAX the day before we flew to Vanuatu. This first meeting occurred in a crowded hotel bar full of 40 other volunteers who were all meeting for the first time. We introduced ourselves, probably shook hands in the least romantic way possible, and moved on to the next introduction.
I wish I could say it was love at first sight, but it took almost two years before we finally started dating. In contrast to modern online dating practices that hinge on fast connections and quick meet-ups, we had a very slow analog relationship.
In fact, we rarely spent time together during our first year in Vanuatu. We worked in different fields. I was an English teacher, and she was a health instructor. We were also based on different islands, which made casual hangs very uncommon. It wasn’t until my birthday in September 2011 — when I was celebrating with a group of volunteers on her island — that I noticed there was something more between us.
We finally got together, and we had Malaria to thank
For the next year, we started making more of an effort to see each other. At first, we thought of ourselves as good friends, but one day, she texted me that she had decided to end her long-distance relationship with her boyfriend back home. Suddenly, the possibility of a deeper relationship was very real for us. Island hopping was still an issue though.
After a few months, I finally traveled to the capital city of Vanuatu — port Vila. Luckily, Danielle was already in town. Unluckily, she was being treated by the Peace Corps medical staff for malaria.
In between those bad days — when she was feeling more like her usual self — she would invite me on long walks or casual lunch dates. It wasn’t until we finally knew she had malaria that I realized I should wise up and finally asked her to be my girlfriend. She said yes, of course.
She still claims that the long stay in town — brought on by malaria — was the only reason we ended up together. And she swears the malaria medication had nothing to do with it.
Our relationship started a few months before we returned home. I returned to the Atlanta area with my family, and Danielle returned to her hometown of Danbury, Connecticut, to be with hers. We spent the next year flying back and forth, trying to make our relationship work. Eventually, I moved to Connecticut to be closer to her while she finished graduate school. It was one of a series of decisions that led to the best decision of my life — asking her to be my wife. Once again, she said yes.
Fifteen years later, we have two kids, two cats, a dog, and a beautiful home full of plants, laughter, and hope in equal portions.
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