“And you still like each other?” is one of the most common questions my partner, Sean, and I get when we tell someone we’re entering our fourth year calling a small camper van home.
People usually ask it in a joking tone. We all chuckle, but there’s true curiosity underneath. Can a couple really spend all this time together — crammed in a tiny space with no privacy, plenty of unusual road-life challenges, and a dog in our van — without gasping for air?
Turns out, we can. Although people often guess that too much proximity wears romance down, the opposite feels true for us.
Sharing so many new experiences deepens our connection
You know how on reality dating shows, producers put couples in intense situations to heighten their emotions? Skydiving, maybe, or some outlandishly beautiful hike on an island the contestants know they’ll never see again.
Because these once-in-a-lifetime experiences are so exciting, they foster almost instant intimacy. Living in a van provides deep bonding opportunities like these on most days of the week.
As Sean and I travel, we connect over our shared adventures — from watching North America’s earliest sunrise in Newfoundland to cold-dipping in Glacier National Park to simply laughing in disbelief at the highway’s strangest billboards.
We have to face challenges and solve problems as a team
Unlike contestants on reality dating shows, we’re in charge of all these “date” logistics ourselves. That’s a good thing!
Whether we’re getting our house unstuck from a ditch on a middle-of-nowhere mountain road, finding an appropriate place to empty our composting toilet, or debating where to park overnight after an exhausting day hike, uniting around obstacles big and small gives us a satisfying relationship rush. We remind each other that we’re in this together.
We’re also unable to hide from conflict. Because there’s no room — and I mean this literally — to let problems pile up, we deal with disagreements more quickly and thoroughly than when we lived in a larger stationary house.
Van life demands that we approach interpersonal challenges the same way we face external issues on the road: right away, as a team.
Plus, all this time in the same space means that when we grow, we grow together. We’re often all we have on the road, so I appreciate how naturally we stay central in each other’s lives.
The biggest downsides are mostly annoyances
We’ve had no choice but to get used to an utter lack of privacy. Some days, Sean and I are only apart for a few minutes in total.
Although the not-so-glamorous reality of such extreme proximity has deepened our trust and confidence in each other overall, I’d be lying if I said we never get on each other’s nerves.
Let me tell you: You do not want your headphones to break while living with someone else in less than 70 square feet.
We also have to juggle mundane but necessary planning for things like video-call acoustics when we both have work meetings at the same time. Sometimes I dream about a separate, always-quiet home office.
Finally, because we’re usually pretty attached at the hip, it can feel more difficult to do things without each other. This struggle is both emotional and practical.
Take one time last year, for example, when Sean met a coworker for lunch. I stayed home … except “home,” in this case, was inside our van in the restaurant’s parking lot. Yeah, it felt a little weird.
We’re closer than before, literally and figuratively
For us, the greatest risk of living in a small space isn’t finding ourselves at each other’s throats, but becoming codependent.
Because constant travel means we don’t see family and friends as regularly as we’d like, we can sometimes go weeks acting as load-bearing support in each other’s social lives.
That doesn’t usually feel like a problem, though. Most of all, I feel lucky to spend all day, every day with my favorite person.
This story was originally published on March 12, 2026, and most recently updated on May 11, 2026.
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