I’d probably still be working at the Columba Hotel in Ullapool.

I’d never have suspected that someone from the south of England might think it was fun to work in the Scottish Highlands for the summer.

I’d never have known that I could work a double shift on three hours’ sleep.

I’d never have gone skinny-dipping in a freezing lochan up in the hills.

I’d never have watched the Northern Lights on the beach while drinking Ardbeg straight from the bottle.

I’d never have known that “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley could sound so good on a tiny Bluetooth speaker on a beach.

I’d never have listened to “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley 50 times on repeat because you were down south staying with your parents.

I’d never have known it was possible to do a PhD in Folklore Studies.

I’d never have moved to Glasgow.

I’d never have got a bank loan.

I’d never have realized my dream of opening my own café.

I’d never have learned to make the perfect flat white.

I’d never have learned to pronounce the word “paradigm.”

I’d never have known the shame of being the only person in the room who didn’t know how to pronounce the word “paradigm.”

I’d never have felt lost for words while speaking to my own girlfriend.

I’d never have met Jordan Strachan, Scotland’s Leading Professor of Folklore Studies.

I’d never have known that Scotland’s Leading Professor of Folklore Studies was also Scotland’s Most Pretentious Man.

I’d never have fallen asleep in a pub while listening to Jordan Strachan rambling on about selkies.

I’d never have lain awake at 4 a.m., wondering how an academic conference could go on so long.

I’d never have used the phrase “paradigm shift” while talking about my own relationship.

I’d never have punched Jordan Strachan at your birthday party.

I’d never have known the pleasure of punching Jordan Strachan.

I’d never have found out how expensive a room in an Ibis can be if you turn up without a reservation.

I’d never have discovered that your voicemail has a maximum capacity of 25 messages.

I’d never have known the relief of hearing, through a mutual friend, that Jordan Strachan didn’t intend to press charges.

I’d never have known the despair of hearing, through a mutual friend, that you’d moved in with Jordan Strachan.

I’d never have known that you can wake up at 6 a.m. and make perfect flat whites all day and smile at customers and engage in small talk while feeling dead inside.

I’d never have spent every evening of a visit home in the bar of the Columba Hotel, just because it reminded me of you.

I’d never have known that you can wake up every morning and still think about a person you haven’t seen in five years.

I might be able to listen to “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley without crying.