The moment I realized she was the one: it wasn’t during a grand gesture or a perfectly scripted scene—it was while we were debating Jane Austen, and I blurted out that I wanted to spend forever with her. But here’s where it gets controversial: was it the timing, the setting, or the sheer audacity of the moment that made it so unforgettable? Let’s dive in.
In 2018, I traded the sunny shores of Sydney for the historic halls of Oxford to pursue my master’s degree. My mum’s London roots and my gran’s enchanting tales of England made the move feel less like a leap and more like a homecoming. I was eager to immerse myself in academia, explore Oxford’s legendary libraries, and squeeze as many sports into my schedule as humanly possible. Falling in love? Not on the agenda. Until Miranda.
Our paths first crossed at an AFL Grand Final screening—a 2:30 PM kickoff in Melbourne meant an early morning in the UK. I wound my way through Oxford’s cobblestone alleys in the pre-dawn darkness, arriving at a common room buzzing with energy. There she was, Miranda, a whirlwind of enthusiasm, greeting bleary-eyed Aussies with coffee and avocado-smeared bagels. Her smile was electric, and her energy was infectious. I was smitten, though I’m pretty sure she was more focused on Collingwood’s performance than my charm.
Over the following weeks, I learned more about Miranda. She was a force of nature—pursuing her master’s in classical archaeology, a rower, the president of the Oxford University Australia and New Zealand Society, and a member of one of Oxford’s top chapel choirs. She seemed to know everyone, and frankly, she was intimidating. I devised a strategy: attract her attention without the terror of actually talking to her. Just before Michaelmas term ended, I hosted a chaotic potluck dinner in my graduate accommodation’s common area. Mulled wine simmered on the stove, and in a rare moment of boldness, I handed Miranda control of the music playlist. True to Australian form, our first real conversation involved good-naturedly mocking each other’s Christmas music tastes.
Later, she confessed it was my (intentional) flaming of the Christmas pudding that truly caught her eye. Emboldened by my culinary pyrotechnics—and a splash of cooking brandy—I finally mustered the courage to ask her out.
Two months later, we were strolling down Turl Street on a blustery winter day, our hands tucked into the pocket of my teal coat. I was mid-rant about why Jane Austen’s works are the epitome of romance when I suddenly used our relationship as an example of finding your forever person. For someone who’d always struggled to express emotions, the words tumbled out before I could overthink them. I had a fleeting moment of panic before she looked at me, smiled, and I knew she felt the same.
Fast forward to September 2022, and we’re married, having survived long-distance love, a global pandemic, impromptu cohabitation in a shoebox apartment, and a three-day interstate move. Now settled in Melbourne with two pampered indoor rabbits, I still cherish that spontaneous, wintery confession. But this is the part most people miss: love isn’t just about grand gestures—it’s about those unscripted moments that reveal everything.
Controversial question: Do you believe in ‘the moment’ when you know someone’s the one, or is it more about the slow burn of compatibility? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Darcy Green is the author of After the Siren (Penguin; $22.99).
Tell us: What was your moment?
