In 2016 a breakup sent me spiralling into a period of deep introspection. I was 25 years old and knew it was time to “do the work”, as they say. I knuckled down and spent a long, lonely winter sorting myself out as best I could. By the spring my mood was thawing, and on the dancefloor at a Chicago house night at the Melbourne town hall I clocked Olwen for the first time.
When we ran into each other and introduced ourselves at an afterparty, a frisson ran through me. That brief interaction with her left me so discombobulated I had to leave the party early. I was on the mend, but I definitely wasn’t ready for whatever that was.
