I’ve always thought that interracial children looked perfect, and that intermarried couples are beautiful, ideal. I just never imagined myself in one of them until Simeon.

It was a sunny December afternoon of 2008 at the dormitory, and just like any other day, you’d find me busy as ever. Editor-In-Chief of the University publication, president of the English Majors’ Club, involved in Youth Ministry, Student Association, friends, boyfriend, what else does a twenty year old girl need in her life?

One afternoon, a twenty four year old International Theology student was wandering at the dormitory with his friend for the annual Ladies’ Dormitory Open House. This university in southern Luzon with lush green trees looked conducive for people from different nations to come to study. The university, though, wouldn’t allow men to go into women’s dormitory and vice versa except that time of the year. Naturally the Open House was a spectacle.

As it was, I was busy preparing our dorm room. My roommate decided to play some religious tunes while other rooms played pop music. It wasn’t a big deal for me because I was about to graduate that year so I wouldn’t care less if our dorm room sounded too goodie-goody. We just needed snacks, and some sweeping. So when the food ran out, my other roommates decided to buy more at the kiosk. I was quite tired from editing the magazine the night before so I decided to take a nap. Around 12:30, two African boys knocked on the door, I was almost dozing off because of the heat of the noonday sun.

“Hi Lyn! Can we come in?” said Daniel, a fellow from the Student Association. Trying to be as accommodating as possible, I replied, “Oh, hi, come on in, I’m sorry we don’t have snacks anymore but you’re welcome.” I tried to tour them around the four-cornered bedroom, explaining each corner belongs to which roommate. Mine was pretty colorful: posters and quotations hung on the wall, and books on the shelf as you would expect from a typical collegian. “This is my friend Simon by the way,” Daniel muttered, spelling his name as S-I-M-E-O-N. “Hi Simeon,” I said. Unlike some people, he’d later confess, I could pronounce his name right. Simeon anxiously shook my hand and asked which one was my corner. “That one,” I replied, pointing with my lips. “Your Bible is too big,” Simeon remarked. “Yes, it is easier for me to use” I mindlessly responded.

Months later, I graduated. Happy with a BA degree and an entry job at my father’s publishing company in Manila, I had forgotten about Simeon while he continued his program. For all I knew, I would never see him again. But apparently he met my sister in campus and she gave him my number. It seems like I had an avid fan every time I’d join or host events in campus. But he didn’t know how to reach out to me until he added me on social media, and we had been chatting occasionally until I decided to go back to graduate school in 2010.

At that time, I had a bitter break up with a former boyfriend when Simeon visited me. “Can we walk towards the prayer garden?” Figuring out that he was going to court me, I was hesitant. But because he was quite a respectable guy—relatively tall, slim African guy with a very boyish look about his face and a serious Theologian stance, I decided to walk with him. Maybe he’s harmless. We sat on the cold stone bench whilst surrounded by an orchid garden. He said he was sincere in his intent to pursue me. “But I’m not ready for a relationship,” I told him. “I wanted to be single for now,” even though I’ve started dating people from my new university. I thought to myself, he is such a serious man, I might fall in love with him and be miserable again. But Simeon figured that he wanted me more than anyone else. There was a special connection between us. So, his African persistence made him to ask me out until one day, with nothing left for me to give as an alibi when he asked me to go to a restaurant with him, I said, “I can’t. I don’t have money to go to Tagaytay today. My allowance has not arrived yet.” That was the truth, but I don’t understand why I admitted that to him. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll fetch you instead of meeting me in the restaurant as you suggested.” So he did. He took me to a decent restaurant in Tagaytay and we talked for a while. He told me that it was his first time to bring someone on a date. He said he was busy as a prefect in high school and finding money after he left home that he’s never really had a real girlfriend. It seems impossible, but I decided to take his word for it. I used to think that I wouldn’t go out with a man who’s not Filipino, but Simeon seems different. He isn’t the kind of man who’d go out telling girls ‘I am very cool’. Where I grew up, all the boys in my town are either too proud of their cars or pretending to be really accomplished at whatever. Simeon was clear in what he wanted to happen in the future. He was not fussed up with buying cars. He wanted to accomplish degrees and build a house and help his brother get to school. He was a dreamer. Honestly, at that point, I was smitten by how intelligent yet down to earth he was. I’ve never met anyone like him. Could I really fall in love with this man? What will my parents say? Will my friends like the idea that I’d be dating, much less possibly marry an African man? I kept asking myself even before I agreed to go on a date with him.

As we parted ways, he thanked me for the time, as I did too. He then took my hand softly amidst the very crowded part of town and handed me a couple of yellow colored peso bills. “I don’t have much, but this is for you. It’s your baon.” My heart melted. He didn’t exactly brought flowers or chocolates, but he was paying attention. He knew what I needed that week. After that, he started coming more often to my university to visit. On the eve of my sister’s graduation, I decided to give him a visit at his university. “Yes, I’d like to be with you.” March 29, 2011 was when he kissed me for the very first time.

What about my parents? They didn’t take it well, obviously. It was a tough couple of months for me because I didn’t know if I had to hide my relationship to them or not, yet I am very fond of him. My father refused to meet him, even if he was doing everything that’s required of my culture—asking for the daughter’s hand in marriage. Whenever we date, random shirtless guys in Dasmarinas would call my boyfriend “Nigga” or get looks in people’s faces (even at fancier restaurants). Even my friends from college think I was crazy.

I eventually decided to take a year off Graduate school to go as a missionary teacher in Kenya in 2011 partly because I wanted to see if Kenya is the place I’d want to be married into, and to see for myself if everything that my friends had been telling me about Africans is true. And they are wrong. Going to another continent was the best decision I’ve ever made. At first, Simeon was hesitant to send me to his hometown, a mere 6 hours trip from where I work to see his home because he was afraid that I will not love him anymore if I find out that he had grown up in a very humble home. African girls don’t marry poor boys, he said. But honestly, there was something about him that was so beautiful, worth fighting for.

Simeon’s father died when he was very young and he had to learn how to mingle with other people other than his family, and show compassion to those whose needs surpass his. For about five years, he was selling books to find money to go to the Philippines to study.

While in Kenya, we just kept writing to each other despite my parent’s opposition, skyping, sending packages and all. I returned to the Philippines in 2012 with a braided hair and a fresh perspective on life.

After a year of teaching in the Philippines, I decided to teach in Indonesia while Simeon went to Norway to work and study. The plan to marry after a few years seem plausible, and both of us tried our best to be in touch. Date night online, gifts, love letters; but with the stress of both being in a new and different countries for the first time, struggling and juggling our lives separately, we fell apart in May, 2014. It was very painful. Long distance relationship, even in the age of the internet is difficult. Plus, Simeon said that he cannot go on if my parents wouldn’t bless us. I was so angry. I became rebellious and started going to Bali and many other places with my Indonesian friends to take my mind off him. After a couple of months that we’ve broken up, I started dating another guy, incidentally a friend of Simeon. I thought I liked him but every time I went out with this guy, Simeon keeps popping out of my mind. Finally, Simeon learned about this and was furious with his country mate. He demanded an explanation from his friend and swore to get the next flight out from Norway to Indonesia. In the end, I decided that Simeon is the one that I love and I ended everything with the other guy. Simeon planned on a trip to Indonesia and the Philippines to meet my family and myself.

A day after his visit to both places, I received an admission to a Norwegian university. It was almost like fate would have it for us. And even though I really loved teaching at that school, I knew that I would be happier if we were together. So on July, 2015, I flew to Norway to begin another Master’s degree and to marry him. Before I left, I talked to my parents and I received their blessing.

We were married in Tromso, Norway in November 29, 2015 with the help of Simeon’s friends. It was like a United Nations wedding, literally. I was a stranger there in July but I felt home after just a few months; all because Simeon had made beautiful connections with all kinds of people. Winter weddings in Norway isn’t exactly budget friendly, but it was unbelievable how everyone tried their best to help us in the décor, the food, the photography, and more because Simeon was everyone’s friend. It was nostalgic.

I received a call from my mom just minutes before I arrived at church, telling me that she was praying for us. At that point I felt a deep sense of peace knowing that my family’s blessings was with us even though my dad wasn’t articulating it. Nowadays, we live in the United States in order to pursue our dreams of PhDs among other things.

Movie nights, evening strolls, trips together—those are really good memories. But silly fights, penniless nights? How about the shameful, yet adventurous dumpster diving in Norway or visits to food shelves? It isn’t exactly romantic, but I’d rather be miserable with him than be elsewhere. I know that dreamers will make it. I have faith. Whether it’s an up, down, or however life goes around, I will travel the world over again if I’d have to just to be with him.