It goes without saying that my American partner and I are deeply in love, it may also be cliche to say all we want is to be together, but it doesn't make it any less true.
We've been working towards a settled life here in the UK for almost two years, playing everything by the book, jumping through every hoop and meeting every requirement.
Still, one year to the day (virtually to the hour) since we parted in the airport lounge our PCP visa application was turned down. The reasons were no more than subjective, using phrases like "balance of probabilities' and "I therefore think".
It's difficult not to feel sad or impotent that your life is on hold and your feelings are hostage to arithmetic. I'm not a young man anymore and I waited too long already to find this much love and be showered by this much devotion to give up, ever.
But, to me, the added cruel twist in all this, something few will ever suffer (nor would I want them too) is this agonising wait for what could be months for what amounts to a court ruling on the value of my happiness and the worth of my love.
To borrow from an English football hooligans chant: Long distance love; come and have a go if you think you're tuff enough.
Sorry for the self-pity folks. To Felix, I love you truly.
