A millennial's guide to surviving long-distance relationships

"So this is it."

My boyfriend Ben and I stood up from a cramped concrete ledge, where we were sitting in the airport's parking lot, and walked through the glass doors towards security. As I cried at the gates, he hugged and kissed me goodbye, before walking away.

Then I flew to my new home in New York, while Ben returned to his flat in London. The separation was brutal.

After two years together, how was I going to cope with not seeing him for the next while? Surely, Ben would jump over security barriers, and offer a ring on the tip of his outstretched finger, as he begged me not to leave. But I knew that wouldn’t happen because unlike most Hollywood films, it was my choice to move.

Within three months, I got a job working at a national newspaper, made friends, and had new experiences—yet through it all, our relationship stayed strong.

Many people have told me that they couldn't possibly live without their significant other, but you just might surprise yourself. Here are five tips for maintaining a long-distance love connection:

The time difference and dodgy Internet connection can make long-distance video chats wearisome, especially since you may spend more time reconnecting the Wi-Fi than actually talking on some days. And sure, "How was your day?" and "Good, how was yours?" isn't the pithy script of a romcom. But my daily Skype chat with Ben is still one of the most grounding and necessary parts of my routine.

I once asked my friend Mary, whose boyfriend was living in Turkey, "What do you guys even talk about?"

"I dunno," she replied. "Sometimes, we just make funny faces at each other."

And that’s okay, too.

When Ben told me around Christmastime that he didn’t want to visit New York again for two months, I was initially upset, but later realized I had made the choice to move away.

"Don’t set the bar too high," he said over dinner. At the time, this seemed like an unnecessarily negative thing to say, but I eventually learned that it actually makes a lot of sense. If you're the one who chooses to leave, you must understand that there are some things over which you have no control.

In fact, it felt empowering one Friday night when Ben messaged me saying, "I’m at a party, but I’ll be home about 11, and can chat then," and I replied, "Enjoy yourself; don’t come home early."

Letting go, to a certain extent, is necessary.

Imagine coming home on a run-of-the-mill Tuesday, excited to see your boyfriend or girlfriend after a long day at work. Now, imagine that feeling as you trek to the airport on a Friday evening to see your partner after two months. You feel a strange combination of nervous and shaky.  When you catch a first glimpse of bae in the arrivals hall, they somehow look different from how you remember them.

"Have you got your luggage?" was my first question to Ben, even though he was holding it in his hand. Although we were both happy, I was unsure of what to say to him. We walked in near silence to get a taxi.

Kissing Ben and holding his hand was strange, too. Affection seemed alien since the most intimacy I’d had in nine weeks was when someone sat too close to me on the subway.

We were always perfectly fine on the phone, so why was it strange now? At the time, I didn't realize it would take time to readjust to him and being in a relationship again—and that that's perfectly normal.

My friend Joanna was in a long-distance relationship with a man in Illinois for years, and her tip was one of the most helpful. "Always have a date set for when you will next see each other," she said.

Doing this eliminates uncertainty and prevents nagging ("Have you booked it yet?").

One warning: Don't use this date as an excuse to wish the time away, or dwell on the time you’re spending apart.

Before I left London, my mum told me that a long-distance relationship would allow both Ben and I to "move to different places."

Literally, that was obvious. But metaphorically, it was also true. Ben saw much more of his family, signed up for several courses, and went out more frequently with his work friends. Maybe separation was a healthy choice, after all.

Penny Mansfield, director of One Plus One, a UK-based charity that conducts research on relationships, told BBC Radio, "Relationships that last a long time become quite interdependent."

Indeed, this experience taught me that I don’t need my boyfriend—I just want to be with him. And as I look up at the Manhattan skyline, I can't quite believe that I'm, here, doing this for me.