The Beginning

It started as a joke. A single post, shared lightly and without expectation, asking a simple question: “Are you looking for a boyfriend?” It was never meant to change my life. It wasn’t a search for permanence or certainty — just curiosity, humor, a moment of openness sent into the world. And yet, in a way only God could orchestrate, that question traveled farther than I ever imagined.

Julia was the very first person to message me. Not publicly, not for attention — privately. Quietly. Intentionally. From the very first words she wrote, something felt different. Her energy didn’t just come through the screen — it reached me. There was warmth in her tone, confidence in her curiosity, and a gentleness that felt rare. I didn’t analyze it. I didn’t hesitate. I simply knew I wanted to meet her.

So I took an early train to Kraków. I booked an Airbnb so I could stay close, unhurried, fully present. I told myself it was just a date — a chance to meet someone interesting. But deep down, something felt heavier, like I was stepping toward something already written. What neither of us knew was that this “first date” would quietly stretch into three days — three days that would redefine everything I thought I knew about love.

Time dissolved almost immediately. Conversations flowed as if they had been waiting years to begin. Laughter came easily. Silence felt safe. Somewhere between walking the city, sharing meals, and getting lost in each other’s presence, the word perfect stopped making sense. This wasn’t perfection — it was recognition. The kind that doesn’t announce itself loudly, but settles deep in your chest and stays there.

And then there was the rain.

The storm came suddenly, fierce and unapologetic, drenching the city as we stood near Wawel Castle. Nearby, the cross of Jesus Christ stood quietly, watching over the moment. I remember looking at Julia, the rain streaking through her hair, the world blurred around us, and feeling something sacred settle in. I asked for her hand. She gave it to me without question. I told her to run.

We ran through the storm, hands locked together, hearts pounding, until the darkness broke open into a single pool of light — an old streetlamp glowing against the night. I spun her toward me. The rain poured down. Time stopped. And there, under that light, soaked and laughing and completely unguarded, we kissed. It felt unreal. Like a scene written by someone who believed deeply in love. A fairytale — not imagined, but lived.

We couldn’t bring ourselves to part after that. The night unfolded in soft steps and stolen moments — walking hand in hand through the city, holding each other close, kissing as if we were afraid the world might wake us from a dream. She stayed with me that night. The next day, I stayed with her. And the day after that, she came with me to Wadowice. We kept choosing one more moment, one more hour, one more memory.

In those days, Julia loved me in ways that felt instinctive and pure. She cooked for me. She cared for me. She opened her home and her heart without reservation. Her touch calmed me. Her voice grounded me. Her eyes — full of warmth and sincerity — made me feel seen in a way I never had before.

Later, she took me to Wrocław to meet her mother and her beloved pets, especially her dog, Cody. I even had the joy of celebrating Cody’s birthday with them. The city was beautiful, but what stayed with me was the feeling — the nervous excitement, the anticipation, the sense that something was about to be named. That night, by the river illuminated by soft city lights, I asked Julia what we were waiting for. I asked her to be my girlfriend.

She said yes without hesitation.

The joy that followed was overwhelming — the kind that lifts you off the ground, that makes you laugh and cry at the same time. Meeting her mother felt unexpectedly like coming home. I was welcomed with kindness, warmth, and even stories from Julia’s childhood. In that moment, I knew with unshakable certainty: this was not just a relationship. This was my soulmate. This was the life I wanted — fully, intentionally, and only with her.

When Julia later came to Wadowice to meet my family, she was embraced instantly. We picked blueberries, shared meals, laughed easily. At my grandmother’s home, our story was listened to with joy and affection. Love surrounded us everywhere we went, and I felt deeply grateful — not just for Julia, but for the way our worlds were gently weaving together.

As our time together drew closer to its end, we stretched every second. We painted. We ate ice cream. We built Legos. We watched episodes of The Office, half a movie, shared massages, quiet mornings, lingering nights — doing everything we could to make time slow down. And when she came with me to the airport before dawn and stayed until the very last moment, waving through tears as I passed through security, something inside me settled forever.

This love was real.

I would do anything for this woman. I will make her my wife. I will build a life with her. I will be the father of our children one day. I will protect her heart as fiercely as she has trusted me with it.

Looking back, it all feels unreal — like a dream you wake from too quickly. But even in the moment, I knew this wasn’t coincidence or luck. God had heard every prayer. He had waited for the perfect timing. He had written this story long before I ever posted that question. And in His love, He allowed me to glimpse what it means to love the way He loves.