Long-distance relationships are so wonderful. Giddy with lust and potential, you’re drunk on the idea that only circumstances had prevented you from finding each other, and therefore it must be true love. There’s hardly a more romantic scenario than defying logic to try to make it work: “If it weren’t for this one thing, we’d be perfect for one another!” There are few things more exciting than stepping off a flight and into the arms of a lover holding a bouquet.

I’ve been through this, but at some point the flowers give way to FaceTime and fantasy gives way to reality. There’s one phone call I remember vividly. It was a monotonous check-in at first (“What did you eat for dinner?” “Do you have much on tomorrow?”) but I remember it for the one moment when all the wonderful things I’d imagined and projected onto this man dissipated. Eventually, the veneer wears thin and cracks start to show.

He’d scoffed when I said something about climate change. He doesn’t believe in climate change! My stomach sank. I felt sick. How could I have missed this? Had I been I blinded by yearning for romance? My questions gave way to another question: where is the line that marks the subjects we can disagree about but still get along?

I’d met another person who liked to argue about almost everything. Vegemite. Football. Iran. Nothing off limits. When I asked him why, he said it helps him strengthen his views intellectually and, just as importantly, it’s how he gets to know people. I admitted that I’ve become almost the opposite – I still love hearing ideas, but I’m much less interested in persuading people than I used to be, because I can’t be sure my position is the right one.

Conversations with this man reminded me how seductive certainty is. It’s comforting to believe that our political views are the correct ones. Less comforting is admitting that every generation has thought it was right. We can’t be so rigid as to assume we hold the absolute truth. And sharing “your truth” is vastly different from imposing agreement.

After all, if our deepest convictions never cost us anything, how deep are they? Someone liking a political post or saying something spicy surely pales in comparison to the tangible ways people show their devotion, like picking up the kids from school or flying across the country to see us. The daily acts that constitute love and bolster relationships are perhaps so mundane they’re often overlooked.

If you zoom out far enough, almost every family tree is proof that human beings have always lived through profound disagreement.BROOKE BONEY

It’s not for me to cast aspersions on those whose politics are different to mine, and that’s not necessarily what this is about. We tend to view politics in absolute terms and obsess with being on the “right side of history” to avoid the scorn or backwards-reaching shame of future generations. Love and human connection offer something enduring – our survival, our shared heritage, our legacies, even if the people we create and nurture end up judging us for our politics.

If you zoom out far enough, almost every family tree is proof that human beings have always lived through profound disagreement. Reconciliation is a dynamic process; we don’t arrive at a destination and think, “Great, we’ve resolved all our disagreements.”

The true test of a society, or a relationship, isn’t whether people agree, it’s whether they can remain connected when they don’t. You can advocate, protest, write and vote, but you cannot control how others think or feel. Eventually, you have to surrender to a hard reality: people often react defensively when the world feels threatening, and right now, the world feels more threatening than it has for decades.

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So, after talking ad nauseam to my girlfriends (and frankly anyone who would listen) about having found the perfect man except for the defect around his views on climate change, the solution for us wasn’t to find mutual ground, agree to disagree and commit to loving one another despite our differences. It turned out that it was all just … a misunderstanding.

He thought I’d said something slightly different and responded to that. I thought he’d said something different and responded to that in turn. So, this call I had to make to clear it up, a call made with trepidation and fear, ended up just reminding us that we shouldn’t be distracted while talking to each other lest we fail to hear what the other is saying.

It was a relief to get to the bottom of it so we could break up over something normal, like working too much or not expressing emotions.

I’m reminded of a quote often misattributed to James Baldwin: “We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” May we never stop seeking justice – and may we never stop talking to one another.