Bold truth: love can arrive when you’re least expecting it, and it can redefine what you thought life and work were capable of offering. Here’s a fresh, expanded telling that preserves all the key moments and meaning.
In school, dance wasn’t just a hobby; it was my entire world. Every spare moment orbited toward earning a coveted spot with a prestigious performance company, and I chased that dream with single‑minded devotion.
When I finished high school in Brisbane, I didn’t pause. I packed up and set off to forge a career as a performer, chasing stages around the globe.
The dream grew louder as I climbed—from the road to the spotlight—until, in 2019, I landed my ideal role as an assistant creative director at Cirque du Soleil. Then came the pandemic, and with it, a harsh pivot: the ground vanished beneath me, and I was let go from a job I had poured my life into.
Returning to my parents’ home in Noosa, I felt unmoored for the first time. The certainty I’d always relied on dissolved, leaving me adrift and uncertain about what came next.
To break the monotony of those days, I dipped into dating apps. I connected with a few guys, but nothing stuck—until a familiar face appeared on my screen: Tom, whom I’d known from high school. He had always seemed steady and capable, and his recent photos suggested he still carried that same magnetism. We came from different social circles, so our paths hadn’t crossed much back then.
We matched, and he broke the ice with a message. I recognized him and we traded a few light conversations.
The first time he asked me out, I declined. I was intent on leaving Australia as soon as the world reopened. The second and third invitations were canceled at the last moment. I was an unemployed circus performer and he worked in finance—what could we possibly have in common?
Yet on the fourth invitation, I surprised us both by saying yes. I figured I had little to lose, and I accepted that the pandemic would extend far beyond a few weeks.
We planned to meet at his house, and he arranged an Uber to pick me up. I stood outside, looking rather disheveled—wet hair, baggy clothes, and low expectations for the date. I didn’t put much effort into my appearance.
When the car door opened, I was taken aback to find him inside, and when he helped me into the vehicle by taking my hand, I realized I might have misjudged things. His politeness, more than his looks, struck me as remarkable—and it was a gentle reminder that good people still exist.
I’d moved through life with a certain confidence before Tom entered the scene, so the realization that someone so kind could be that attractive was both surprising and comforting. That simple gesture suggested there were people worth slowing down for, even in a fast-paced world.
What followed was easy compatibility. We weren’t cut from the same cloth, yet we shared a drive to excel—not just in our careers but in becoming the best versions of ourselves. That alignment gave the sense of having known each other for ages, which felt, in a way, true.
I wrapped up the first date earlier than I’d hoped, convinced I’d blown it with my careless outfit. Yet after a night of painful radio silence, he reached out within 24 hours to ask for a second chance. From there, our connection ignited into something intense and fast—like a blaze that grows with each passing moment. He would fly up from Brisbane on weekends to visit me in Noosa, and I found myself counting down every next reunion.
Those weeks together opened my eyes to a life and a love beyond the demanding world of work. I wanted to hold onto it with both hands. A few months after that imperfect first date, we decided to live together.
Shortly after, Cirque reached out with an offer to return, and I discovered I was pregnant with our first child. I chose not to return to touring, embracing the new path before me. The life I’d built as a soon-to-be mother felt deeply fulfilling, yet Tom’s support and encouragement kept me creatively active. When I was 36 weeks pregnant, I even helped produce my own show, Cirque Bon Bon, with Tom by my side. In the days after the emergency cesarean that brought our second child into the world, he pushed me in a wheelchair through the theater, helping me finalize the opening-night preparations.
First loves are unparalleled, and mine has always been dance. Yet I discovered there’s room for a different kind of love too—one that grows with a partner who believes in you and a family that supports you. Tom and our kids transformed what I thought I could achieve and who I could become. Now I create not just for thousands of spectators but for three—the three people who matter most to me.
*Ash Jacks McCready is the creative director of Cirque Alice.
Tell us the moment you knew you’d found your person, and what changed for you when you did.
