There’s a specific moment at airport security that always feels heavier than it should. I’m standing in line, passport in hand, going through a rough outline of the next few months in my head.
I’ll spend six weeks in Denmark with my long-distance boyfriend before going back to the US for a month or two. Then he’ll come to me before we do it all over again.
That’s the rhythm of our relationship. We measure time in departures and book plane tickets almost as soon as one trip ends. Every reunion is sweet, but it comes with an expiration date.
On paper, splitting my time between the US and Denmark sounds cinematic — like a travel influencer’s dream.
In reality, though, it’s a logistical and emotional balancing act that involves flight alerts, entry limits, and careful math to avoid overstaying our visas.
Our relationship requires careful planning
My Danish boyfriend and I met in 2017 when he was studying in the US as an exchange student. We officially started dating in 2019, knowing an ocean sat between us, and since then, long distance has been our normal.
Seven years later, I’ve learned that love might be priceless, but flights to Copenhagen in July are not. In a typical year, I spend roughly $4,000 to $5,000 on flights and have learned to build travel into my annual budget. I spend lots of time monitoring fares and planning trips in advance to avoid astronomical fees for last-minute bookings.
But the money is only one part of it. Before even looking at dates for our next trip, we have to coordinate things like work schedules, family events, holidays, and weddings. Every visit requires negotiation between two calendars and two time zones.
Then there’s the 90-day rule. As an American in Denmark, I can only stay in the Schengen area for 90 days within a 180-day period. That means I’m constantly counting days to make sure I do not overstay.
My boyfriend faces similar restrictions when visiting me in the US, so neither of us has the luxury of simply staying longer because we feel like it. Our relationship quite literally operates in immigration increments.
Having two homes means always missing one
Splitting my life between two countries has made my roots wider, but also more complicated.
When I’m in the US, I miss spending time with his family, who I’ve become incredibly close with.
When I’m in Denmark, I miss birthdays and group dinners back home. Because I care deeply about people in both places, I always feel like I’m leaving someone behind.
At the same time, distance has forced me to be more intentional. I schedule friend dates in advance, call my parents while I’m taking a walk, and make a real effort to show up for my loved ones when I’m home. I may not always be physically present, but I try to be deliberate.
Being deeply committed to one person while geographically divided from almost everyone else can feel dramatic. Sometimes it is. But it has also clarified my priorities — I know exactly who and what matters most to me.
The distance has made our relationship feel more intentional
For all the logistics and calendar math, there are real advantages to loving someone from across an ocean.
For example, we don’t fight about the small stuff. We know we only have a set number of weeks together, so we never want to waste them arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash. Our time together feels intentional, and the appreciation stays high because nothing is automatic.
I’ve also found that ordinary things feel more meaningful when you know they are temporary, whether that’s grocery shopping together, cooking dinner, or just sitting on the couch watching TV.
On a more personal level, long distance has also built up my independence. I’m comfortable being alone and have my own routines, friends, and work rhythm in the US. He has the same in Denmark.
There’s something truly special about understanding we’re actively choosing each other, not just relying on proximity.
Plus, the reunions never get old. Every arrival still feels exciting, and we always have something to look forward to.
Eventually, our goal is to live in one place — we just haven’t figured out what that looks like yet. But for now, he’s still in university, and we’re embracing this strange, exhausting, wonderful chapter in our relationship.
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