My boyfriend and I met in an airport lounge and have been dating long-distance ever since

• I'm a travel writer, and my boyfriend is a private pilot.
• I was sitting at the bar in an airline lounge when he sat next to me; we instantly connected.

As a travel writer, I spend a lot of time in airline lounges, but I never imagined that's where I'd meet my soulmate.

Earlier this year I was in the United Polaris lounge at Washington Dulles lingering over a late lunch and contemplating heading to the gate to board my flight to Paris. As I peeked at the bar, buzzing with other passengers waiting for their long-haul overnight flights, I decided to stay for one more round.

I grabbed a stool and ordered a glass of Champagne. A few minutes later, a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair approached, attempting to get the busy bartender's attention. I offered up my spot since I was leaving soon, and I asked him what he was drinking. "Lagavulin," he answered, in an accent I couldn't quite place. I was drawn to his warm, expressive, wide-set eyes.

We struck up a conversation, and I learned he was a pilot

We started talking. He told me his name was Janick and he was Belgian. A former airline pilot, he now worked as a private pilot, flying his billionaire boss around the world for business and pleasure. His boss was staying in Washington, DC, so Janick was traveling on a commercial flight back home to Brussels. As a plane nerd, I was intrigued — I check Flightradar24 every time I see an aircraft overhead, and I'm never happy unless I have a bunch of trips planned.

We talked about aviation, scotch, and Champagne, and we compared notes on a few of our favorite destinations. He was engaging, smart, funny, and easy to talk to. Our interaction lasted maybe 15 minutes, but the spark was palpable, and there was a genuine connection. Feeling emboldened by the bubbly, I handed him my business card and told him to let me know the next time he was in DC. He admitted later that he sat staring at my card, wanting to text me immediately but wondering if it was too forward.

Before I even settled into my seat in business class, though, my phone dinged. He said that he was glad to have met, that he wished we could've talked longer, and that he'd definitely reach out the next time he was in town. Our playful WhatsApp banter continued throughout our flights, the virtual flirtation soon peppered with heart and kissy-face emojis. Eventually we said goodnight, but we texted again in the morning. It was sweet and just felt right.

We decided to date long-distance

That began a three-month courtship of texting, calling, and sending each other photos of our trips. In June I told him I was coming back to France the next month and asked if he'd be up for me visiting him first. He said that sounded perfect, adding that he'd happily fulfill my request for moules frites and Belgian beer.

Our first date lasted 30 hours. We packed in so much that it felt like we were making up for the time we'd been apart. We drove an hour and a half to the charming city of Bruges (we didn't stop chatting the entire time) and had the most romantic afternoon. We ate local specialties at an outdoor café, took a boat ride on the canals, held hands while strolling through the city's gardens, and shared our first kiss on Minnewaterbrug, or "Lovers' Bridge."

That evening he cooked the most amazing mussels in herbs and white wine — with twice-fried frites made from scratch! — which we enjoyed with his 18- and 15-year-old kids, who were more friendly and welcoming than they needed to be. (He and I are both amicably divorced, with kids the same age.) And the guest room he'd respectfully offered me that morning? Never saw it.

We see each other when we travel, and we know we want to be together

Since then we've seen one another quite often, when our travels align. We've met up in Delray Beach, Florida, and in Long Island, New York. We've also met up in France; I skipped a weekend in Paris to drive up to Belgium, where I met his entire family and his close friends. He's also visited me in DC during layovers at Washington Dulles.

We survive the lonely stretches with daily video calls and long, romantic texts — the modern, instantaneous version of 19th-century love letters. I track his flights when he's in the cockpit, which somehow makes me feel closer to him.

Our relationship is natural, effortless, and organic, imbued with a strong physical and emotional connection, support, honesty, laughter, and the sheer joy of finding one another. When we talk about my eventual move across the pond in a few years, or splitting our time between Belgium and a warmer, sunnier place by the ocean, our minds swirl with excitement about being together on a semi-regular basis, knowing we'd both still be traveling. Of course, I have some anxiety about leaving my family and friends and relocating to a country I barely know — though I do speak French, so that gives me a leg up.

But I always intended to leave the DC area once my kids graduated and were settled. Janick and I know we're each other's future, and we look forward to the day we can do all the typical things couples do — not just meet up on the road for a few days here and there. I'll ask Janick to describe a Saturday in Belgium together, and he'll fantasize about waking up and having espresso together, going to the market and making stoofvlees (a Flemish beef stew) for dinner, riding bikes to his friends' house for an apéritif, and playing a few games of pétanque. It sounds foreign, but also like home. My next chapter.

My bestie has even given us a celebrity couple name — Janly — while another friend said it was fitting for me to meet someone while doing what I love. It was a chance encounter that might not have happened if I hadn't gotten upgraded, if I'd gone directly to my gate, or if he hadn't been thirsty for scotch. But the universe put us together. Soon after we met, Janick described us as "world travelers, kindred souls." C'est bien vrai.