It was a summer fling – on our last day everything changed

The sun was setting, and a chill was in the air. Hugh and I sat quietly, looking out at the sea, still wet from our surf.

With only the sound of waves crashing on the shore, I thought about our summer together.

I couldn’t believe I’d gotten to know Hugh so quickly. We’d only met six weeks previously, but I already knew everything about his family, friends and the life he wanted to live.

Now, sitting on the beach where we’d first met, I imagined saying goodbye to him in just a few weeks, when I was due to move to London. Even thinking about it was agony.

‘Lauren?’ Hugh said, looking ahead at the ocean. 

‘Yes?’

‘Do you want to get married?’ 

I laughed, assuming he was joking, but then I saw what he was holding.

A silver ring, dotted with a small sapphire. 

‘It was my mum’s,’ he said.

My stomach dropped. I could only assume he’d lost his mind.

Six weeks earlier, in August 2020, I had moved back in with my parents after a bad break-up.

I was at rock bottom: unemployed and alone.

While I was due to move to a London university that September, I had just over a month to kill in a small Cornish fishing village, where the only road was a dead end that led to a field full of cows.

I felt stuck and bored – like I’d regressed to my teenage self. 

But I decided this was the perfect time to learn to surf. A friend knew a ‘good instructor’ – and that’s how I met Hugh.

We were introduced at the pub initially. He was funny and friendly, and we organised our first lesson for the day after.

As I drove to the beach, I was nervous. I hoped he wouldn’t think this was a date; we’d gotten along well, but a relationship was the last thing I was looking for.

I pulled up and saw him waiting at the beach, a red surfboard on the sand next to him. His blonde hair was matted with salt water. It looked like he spent every waking moment outdoors. 

In short, I realised he was attractive – and suddenly, I was terrified of embarrassing myself. 

‘I’ve never surfed in my life,’ I said, with a nervous laugh.

‘You’ll be golden,’ he replied, walking ahead of me, carrying the board on his head. 

Out past the break point, we sat on the boards, floating over the gentle swell. We chatted and laughed; soon, an hour had passed without us realising. 

After failing spectacularly to catch a wave, we sat on the beach and talked well into the evening. It was like we’d known each other for years.

As it got colder and darker, we sat closer together. He teased me about my lack of surfing skills, and I blamed his poor teaching. 

‘We’ll have to set up some more lessons, then,’ he said. 

‘I guess so,’ I said, laughing.

And then he kissed me. 

‘We’ll never be anything serious, Hugh,’ I told him, immediately.

He let out a surprised laugh and shook his head.

Fresh from a breakup and with university on the horizon, I refused to even entertain the idea of a relationship. But a fun summer with someone wasn’t off the cards.

And he agreed. 

From that moment, Hugh and I spent every day and night together. We only had six weeks, so sleep was wasted time.

We lounged on beaches, trekked through fields, attended gigs in Falmouth and explored every inch of Cornwall. At night, we talked until sunrise. We were addicted to each other’s company.

When we finally returned to that beach where we first met, six weeks later, I had fallen in love.

But I couldn’t stay in Cornwall, and I thought long-distance would never work. 

Then everything changed.

In the seconds after Hugh proposed, I thought about my previous relationships and the way they’d whittled away at my confidence. I worried Hugh could be hiding a darker side, like the others that had come before him.

But then I remembered the way Hugh had reacted when I confided in him about my various experiences with men; his visible hurt when imagining the way they had spoken to me. 

I couldn’t imagine my life without Hugh. In fact, I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my life than being married to him. 

So I went with my gut. 

‘Yes. I will marry you,’ I said.

That night, lying next to each other, Hugh leaned over to me. ‘Don’t worry. This will work.’

I felt nauseous. Excited and happy, of course, but also scared. Scared of what my parents might think, scared of how it would work and scared I’d made the wrong decision. 

But I hadn’t.

I moved to London, and he went to university in Bath. For the first two years, we maintained a long-distance relationship, seeing each other every few weeks. Once we’d both graduated, we moved to Bristol together.

Four years on from that first lesson, our wedding was perfect: A celebration with our friends and family on Porthleven harbour. 

Now, as we’re approaching our two-year anniversary, I couldn’t be happier.

Marrying Hugh was the best decision I ever made, and I’ve realised that sometimes it’s best to think with your heart rather than your head. 

There will always be a reason not to do something. But if it makes you feel alive, just do it – and figure out the consequences later.

In the end, the only thing that matters is your happiness.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.