I met someone online many years ago. It was in an old school chatroom and I had decided that I needed to find a place to escape for awhile. My dad had just been diagnosed with a serious illness that he wouldn’t recover from and it felt like my entire life was massively off-kilter all of a sudden.

I was talking in the main part of the chatroom about the best date I’d ever been on. I wasn’t getting the type of attention that I thought I should about such an adorable story so I was really glad when this person sent me a private message to discuss it further. He loved the story too and we ended up talking about books and poetry for about an hour before he had to leave.

I remember thinking later that it was the best conversation I’d had in awhile. We hadn’t discussed a single thing personal. I didn’t know his name, where he lived, how old he was. I knew nothing about him. Not even if he’d return or if we’d have another conversation. But the following day, at a different time of day he logged in again when I was there and we just very naturally continued threads of our previous conversation. It felt like there was so much to say between us. Again one of us left, and we hadn’t spoken about anything personal. Or talked about meeting in the chatroom again. It felt like we were just leaving it to chance.

A day went by, two. I didn’t see him. I thought, what a wonderful conversation and thought very little of it. Until I saw him again. And that day we talked about music. Or films. Or life. I remember I’d say things to him that I wouldn’t say to others. Things I had been thinking about. I asked him what he thought about death. If he had regrets. And he asked me questions too. The question that sticks out the most for me is that early on he asked me ‘are you happy?’ and I said ‘yes’ straightaway.

I was happy. I was married, I had a family. I felt like I had everything that I wanted. Sure, my dad was poorly but on the whole? I’d say happiness was where I was. I asked him if he was happy and I felt really happy that he had said ‘yes’ too, that we were two happy people sharing our thoughts with each other about books, poetry, about life.

And it continued in this way for awhile. We didn’t delve into each other’s lives. I didn’t ask him about his uncertain schedule or the days we didn’t run into each other. He didn’t ask why I was never around on the weekends. Aside from the briefest conversation about our levels of happiness, we only talked about general things. But I looked forward to seeing his name on my screen, I looked forward to hearing his thoughts on anything. I liked the way he responded to me, the way he’d pick up on my word choices, the subtle ways I’d tear myself down.

After we hadn’t heard from each other for two weeks I started to realise that I’d started to rely on him for this connection we had. I realised that I wanted to know more about him. I even realised that I wanted him to know more about me. When I next saw him, I told him that I’d missed him. We talked about our growing attraction to each other. We told each other those missing parts of ourselves that we had avoided discussing. That he was married, that I was married too. That he lived in New York as an English teacher at a private high school.

This knowledge of each other changed very little. We continued having our regular conversations. And I think the thing I loved the most about him is that he felt like the first person that really supported me, that offered real encouragement for me to figure out what I wanted from life, that had this unwavering belief that I could do anything. He was the first person that did everything he could to lift me up, to point out that I was interesting, smart, funny, pretty. That I was also strong, capable. It was intoxicating being around him.

Hearing these nice things about me when I’d grown up in environments where communication relied more on insults, that I was more used to things falling within the destruction of others’ confidence, it was in sarcastic remarks and subtle and not so subtle digs. I realised the difference being around this person. This stranger from far away who could easily tell me that I’m incredible. That I had talent and so much potential. That encouraged me to do the things that I’d put on pause, to have dreams of my own beyond my current small life.

And at the time, with all of this encouragement I remember thinking that it was him. That he was incredible. And he was, in his own way. But actually, the parts of him that I thought were so incredible were just the reflections of myself that I saw in him. I thought he was fucking amazing but what I realised later is that through him that actually it was me that is fucking amazing and he had just held up that mirror for me to see.

And it was in this friendship with this man and all of his support that I realised that I might not be as happy as I thought I was. That maybe I wanted more from my life. To go back to school, to find my space in an actual career. I wanted a bigger, more fulfilling life than the one I had. And I will always be grateful to him for holding up that mirror for me to see.