We took a leap of faith on Valentine’s Day – literally

Looking down at the 20-foot drop into deep, dark water that emptied out into the Atlantic ocean, I felt absolutely terrified.

It was Valentine’s Day 2025. I was dressed in a red bathing suit, standing next to a boy I’d met two months prior, and I couldn’t believe the situation I’d found myself in.

When my date had suggested, the previous night, that we go to the jumping bridge – an ‘off-the-beaten-path’ structure over a canal that led to the open sea – I was seriously doubtful.

I’m not scared of heights, but the idea of jumping off a bridge felt like letting my guard down right away. 

Whenever I went on dates, I preferred something a little less vulnerable and with slightly more clothes on. I was not only nervous about the jump but also us discovering that we weren’t compatible. 

The pressure of going out by ourselves to do something in the day felt more intense than when we had previously hung out at night. 

I felt exposed, in more ways than one. 

But I had to jump. I had gotten myself in this position and I had to commit.

The previous summer, I had moved from New Jersey to a small island in the Florida Keys, age 22.

I wasn’t looking for a relationship – my life felt transient. I only wanted to be in Florida for a year, as I planned to move away for graduate school the following fall.

I started working as the receptionist at a hotel spa and made friends with my coworkers. I was having fun, but didn’t feel like I truly clicked with anyone.

That December, some new friends and I ended up at the most notorious dive bar in town.

We were greeted by a bartender who, like me, was from New Jersey and in his early twenties. He was charismatic and engaging and, for the first time in months, I felt I was talking to someone who understood my humour.

We exchanged numbers and started going for drinks a couple of times a week.

At first, we were just friends with an undertone of flirtation. 

One night, we exchanged a sloppy, drunk kiss; but I had told him already that I wanted us to be friends first. I valued having him in my life in our small town – I didn’t want to jeopardise that.

On February 13, we went to a karaoke bar. We stayed out until about 3:00am and he suggested that the next day, we go to the jumping bridge. 

It felt hugely significant that he wanted to hang out during the day – on Valentine’s Day, no less.

‘Do you know what day it is tomorrow?,’ I asked, carefully – but he did.

When I got home he texted me: ‘4:00pm sharp’.

I was so doubtful. I didn’t know how confident I was to strip down into a bathing suit in front of this boy, let alone venture with him into the wilderness to jump off a bridge. 

There was so much unknown that it led me to overthink. I was worried about what I would wear, how big the jump was and what we would talk about.

I ended up agreeing that night, but with the idea that I could bail in the back of my mind.

When I woke up the next morning, I still couldn’t believe I had said yes – but I knew it would be silly not to go when I so clearly enjoyed spending time with him.

I got ready, and he picked me up from my house.

We got to the bridge just before sunset. As we drove, I tried to play off the anxiety as much as I could with our usual back-and-forth banter, but he could tell how nervous I was as I wasn’t as outgoing as usual.

Even until the last minute, I wasn’t sure I was going to jump. I thought I might be able to convince him to just go to a couple of bars and hang out like we had done the past few nights.

But once he parked the car, we got our bikes out and rode the path to the bridge.

We stood there for a while, taking in the drop and our surroundings before I made him jump first so that I knew what it was going to look like. He flipped off the bridge, fearlessly, and I followed suit (minus the flip).

The anxiety I had had all day then dissipated into thin air.

The relief after the jump made me understand why he had brought me here. 

Feeling the water crush my body, then the gentle push of the current carrying me from one side of the bridge to the other, I knew I had to do it a couple more times.

After the first jump, we laughed about how nervous I had been all day and stayed until it got dark. We stopped for dinner and headed back home – he was already late for his shift at the bar.

When we said goodbye, I knew I would see him later that night with my friends, at his bar; but the date still felt unfinished. He didn’t even kiss me.

It left me slightly confused. I’d had a good time, but the date had left me with more serious feelings for him as I had started to see how well we truly got along.

When I got to the bar that evening, though, he had admitted that he had been too afraid to kiss me – but wished he had. 

We started hanging out more, still just as friends, after that day, but a couple of months later we both took even bigger leaps of faith.

On the last night before he went back home for the summer, we’d been on a night out – and back at his house, I told him I loved him. To my relief, he said it back.

We’ve been together ever since. This Valentine’s Day, we will be over 4,000 miles away from each other, as I’m at graduate school in London. 

But our relationship is as strong as ever; and, safe to say, the exposing, vulnerable, adrenaline-fuelled nature of that first date, with our combined nerves, brought us closer than any ‘regular’ date might have.

So if you needed a sign to go on an adrenaline-raising first date this Valentine’s Day, here it is. It might be scary; but you could just meet the love of your life.

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

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