The Place That Made Me

When I think of places that have shaped me, I could point to Alexandria, with its salty air and ancient streets soaked in history. Or Paris, where I spent hours beneath the shadow of the Eiffel Tower wondering if I fit in. But instead, I find myself drawn to London—the city that, somewhere between its foggy mornings and always-late public transport, taught me the art of love.

Not the whirlwind, Hugh Grant-style romance that the movies would have you believe London is famous for. No. London taught me about the love you craft for yourself—the slow, deliberate kind where you figure out who you are, what you want, and what you need to leave behind.

Learning the Language of Myself

When I first moved to London for my PhD, my life felt like one big identity crisis with a postcode. Here I was, a bicultural Egyptian-French woman trying to decode the cryptic charm of Britain. I mean, how can a culture love queues so much yet possess zero rules about apologizing when you bump someone on the Tube? It’s bewildering.

Back then, I was still clinging to ideas of who I thought I should be. I arrived in London attempting to blend in—always in a rush, coffee in hand, and a wardrobe that suddenly adopted alarming amounts of grey. But my French-Egyptian soul? Oh, she was having none of it. London demanded authenticity, a trait masked in its polite, tea-drinking exterior but alive in its relentless energy. This city broke down the walls I’d built to impress others. And slowly but surely, it taught me how to date, how to connect, and—most importantly—how to love myself.

Dating in a City That Never Stops

If Paris is for lovers, then London is for comedic dating disasters. My love life in London could’ve been its own Bridget Jones sequel—minus the Mark Darcy happy ending.

I quickly realized that dating in London isn’t about finding “the one” but surviving “the awkward.” There was the banker who listed his calorie intake as a hobby (hard pass). The architect who spent the entire date explaining what a load-bearing wall was (fascinating... but no sparks). And, of course, the one who ghosted me after our second date but reappeared six months later like I was a seasonal subscription.

Somewhere amid all this chaos, I realized London was holding up a mirror. Dating forces you to ask yourself uncomfortable questions: Do you really know what you want, or are you just swiping (or, in my case, saying ‘yes’) out of boredom? Are you prioritizing chemistry over compatibility? And who are you becoming in this fast-paced shuffle toward connection?

It hit me, over flat whites and rainy mornings, that I had been measuring my worth based on how well I fit into someone else’s romantic narrative. London—wild, unpredictable London—helped me rewrite my own.

Building Connection in the Unlikeliest Places

Some of the truest connections I made in London happened off the beaten path. Not in fancy restaurants or on curated dates, but in shared moments between strangers.

There was the tiny café nestled in a Notting Hill sidestreet where, during yet another rainy morning, the barista struck up a conversation that felt like both nostalgia and therapy wrapped into one shot of espresso. Or the Turkish kebab shop owner in Dalston who, upon hearing me awkwardly order in broken Arabic, told me stories of Istanbul that felt like whispers of home.

I started to understand something profound about love and connection. It’s rarely forced or picture-perfect. It’s spontaneous and raw, like the city itself. Whether in a fleeting exchange on the Tube or a long conversation after a poetry reading, London taught me to seek realness, however small or unpredictable its form.

Lessons in Self-Love

Here’s the thing about living in a city like London: It’s easy to get lost. Not just figuratively, though that’s always a risk if you confuse the Bakerloo line with the Central line (rookie mistake). It’s easy to lose yourself when the city—buzzing with opportunity, ambition, and a relentless pace—demands all of you.

But once I stopped trying to keep up and started embracing the slower, quieter parts of London life, the city showed me how to thrive. I’d take long walks by the Thames at sunset or sit for hours in one of those redbrick libraries where everything smelled of parchment and possibility. It was during these moments of stillness that I realized the love I had spent years searching for in others was something I’d been withholding from myself.

I started treating myself the way I had hoped someone else would: with patience, care, and a good glass of wine after a tough day. I stopped apologizing for my quirks—the Egyptian stubbornness or the French tendency to roll my eyes when sarcasm is missed. I owned my bilingual, multicultural, slightly chaotic identity. And wouldn’t you know? That knowledge of yourself radiates outward. It changes how you connect with others.

The Takeaway: Let the City Shape You

London taught me love, but not in the way I expected. It wasn’t a fairytale romance that tied everything together with a neat bow of happily ever after. No—it was messier, more beautiful, and more real.

The places that shape us rarely follow the script we envision. Sometimes, they don’t transform us with grand gestures but with moments of clarity tucked into daily life. A long walk through Hyde Park under a grey sky. A heart-to-heart over late-night tea with a flatmate who feels like family. A quiet realization amid the city’s loud, endless chatter.

And so, my advice: stop chasing some polished version of who you think you need to be—in life, in love, or wherever. Let your city, your relationships, and your moments shape you into someone far more compelling: yourself.

Because whether it’s London, Alexandria, or any other corner of the planet, the real magic isn’t in finding love out there. It’s in finding love right here, in the city nestled within you.