You’d be forgiven for approaching the new term with lukewarm enthusiasm. Michaelmas heralds a return to dark evenings, deadlines, and showering in flip-flops. But for some Cantabs, the start of term marks a greater readjustment: they’ll be reuniting with their other halves after a summer spent apart. For them, the hellish half hour spent inching around Parker’s Pieces as we all descend on Cambridge on the same Saturday is a heart-fluttering build-up to a Love Actually reunion. But how do they feel about spending the next eight weeks tangled up in a single bed? Has distance made their hearts grow fonder? To find out, I spoke to Cambridge couples about how they fared long-distance over Summer.

“But how do they feel about spending the next eight weeks tangled up in a single bed? Has distance made their hearts grow fonder?”

Some embarked on their relationships without giving “the distance” much thought. Emily – who is no longer with her long-distance partner – admits that she “wasn’t really worried” because “when you’re with someone you really love you think, ‘Of course it’s gonna work, it’s me and him we’ll be completely fine.’” Emily says she wasn’t prepared for the challenges of long-distance, particularly the lack of physical touch which made it “very very difficult for her” to feel connected to him. Others, like Max, anticipated difficulties before he and his partner made things official. Not only was his partner graduating a year earlier, but planned to move to London for his postgraduate degree. Max says that though London isn’t “hundreds of miles away,” “between the Cambridge workload, train ticket prices and clashing timetables” he doubted they’d see each other enough, which “as a planner,” worried him. Max found talking openly was key. Once they’d aired their concerns, he and his partner accepted there would be periods – especially during exam season, when they’d be apart. Communication, he says, “makes everything easy.”

It’s easy to talk when you’re in the same time zone, but what if you’re not? Does maintaining a Snapchat streak count as the sixth love language? Charlotte, whose boyfriend is an international student, says that during the holidays they speak over text or “send Instagram memes,” and finds the shift from life in Cambridge, “living together and having all our meals together” to romancing online, difficult. “Texting can lead to miscommunication,” she says, since “tone doesn’t come across the right way, and you might not be able to talk about it immediately, because they’re asleep”. Charlotte also mentions the “unspoken etiquette” of communicating virtually and advises that along with compulsory goodnight messages and weekly calls, it’s important to keep on top of every meme shared.

“Does maintaining a Snap streak count as the sixth love language?”

Natalia and her boyfriend rely less on virtual communication, and though they speak daily, are not ones for “FaceTime dates.” Instead, they ensure they “have lots of date meals” during term time, to compensate for time apart. A smart choice, eating together over FaceTime will never replicate the intimacy of a real date until there’s an app for playing virtual footsie (Facebook pokes don’t count). Emily discovered she also prefers relaxed and spontaneous communication. When long-distancing with her partner, she found herself questioning the routine of scheduled calls. “Why is this the one part of my day that feels boring and compulsory?” She wondered. Eventually, this lack of spontaneity and sense of obligation started to weigh things down. She realised her “high energy” personality wasn’t the best fit for her ex’s calm, introverted one.

Most Cantabs I spoke to said time spent together is enriched by the knowledge it will be short. Natalia isn’t “complacent” about the time spent with her boyfriend, aware that “they’re apart more than they are together”. Lucy agrees and makes sure she has “quality time” with her boyfriend away from uni. In Cambridge she notes, “everyone is stressed constantly” and both she and her partner have “somewhere to be or something to do”. To break up the long-distance summer, she visits her partner in his hometown, which is a refreshing change, “because you get to see the places they always go to and do the things they have done their whole lives”. It’s a good point, making a pilgrimage to the landmarks of your partner’s childhood is far more romantic than a rushed pre-library pizza from Aromi.

Some of the students I spoke to make the most of the summer apart. Though part of a couple, it is possible to be independent when long-distance. Lucy, who travelled Central America for two months this summer, says, “it never crossed her mind that just because she was in a relationship” she wouldn’t do the same things she would’ve done when single. “Having space is really important”, she says, and savours having a “whole other life” back home. If you have the space to solidify old friendships, you never feel “tied down.” In contrast, Max feels there are “zero positives” to this, and while other couples might relish their “breathing space” and distraction-free study time, it doesn’t apply to him. Since he and his partner “aren’t together 24/7 in Cambridge,” he would love to see more of his significant other. Perhaps there’s a limit to time spent apart.

Having survived the four months of separation, what advice would these Cantabs offer to long-distance sceptics? How can a relationship survive time zones, conflicting schedules and unfortunate autocorrects? Everyone I spoke to emphasised the importance of communication. Emily, whose long-distance relationship didn’t last, told me that “getting to know your partner’s love language” and “finding new ways of showing that you love each other” is key, and admits, “she could do so much better now.” So, as long as you keep talking, you will find your way, you can go the distance…

*All names have been changed