Love in the most unexpected places can catch you off guard, but sometimes it’s the moments under a spooky bridge that reveal everything.
It all began at a circus festival in Bathurst, back in 2010. I was in my final year of high school, and the air was electric with the energy of aspiring circus troupes from across the country. Among them was Jake’s group from Adelaide, whose talent was impossible to ignore. I distinctly remember him—I even attended one of his workshops—but at the time, he was just another face in the crowd. Little did I know, our paths would intertwine in ways I could never have imagined.
After leaving my hometown of Ulladulla, I pursued my passion at the National Institute of Circus Arts and eventually launched a freelance acrobatic career in Melbourne. Meanwhile, Jake’s troupe had evolved into Gravity & Other Myths, a company on a meteoric rise, touring the globe. When a flyer position opened up, I jumped at the chance to apply. My first interview, a Zoom call, was more of a vibe check. I played it cool, which apparently impressed everyone except Jake, who wasn’t entirely convinced I was the right fit. Still, they offered me a month-long contract, and before I knew it, I was on a plane to Austria.
Arriving in Vienna in December 2018 felt surreal. I was terrified yet exhilarated. A breathtaking train ride through snow-covered mountains took me to Graz, where I met the rest of the group. Rehearsals were intense—my skin bore the marks of countless swings, and the new skills required left me petrified. By opening night, my nerves were through the roof, but the performance was a triumph. I’ve never felt prouder.
At first, my connection with Jake was purely platonic. I had a boyfriend back in Australia, and our bond was rooted in shared quirks, like our love for condiments and identical meal preferences. Life on tour is intimate—morning coffees, nightly dinners—and Jake’s humor and infectious energy naturally drew me in. But here’s where it gets interesting: when my long-distance relationship ended, Jake didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known. It caught me completely off guard—I had no idea he saw me that way. Our dynamic shifted, and things got undeniably flirty.
But here’s where it gets controversial: can workplace romances ever truly stay professional? And should they?
In 2019, during a California tour, the lines between tour buddy and lover blurred. Beachside tacos and sunny days sealed the deal, but we kept our romance under wraps as we returned to Europe. In Paris, during the bitter winter, we’d sneak away after shows for secret rendezvous. Huddled under a spooky bridge by the Canal de l’Ourcq, we were like two little penguins, inseparable. The cold, the exhaustion—none of it mattered. Being with Jake was all that counted.
When the pandemic hit in 2020, our endless touring schedule was abruptly halted, and we found ourselves back in Australia. Jake’s apartment in Adelaide became our sanctuary. Those stressful years were also some of the most fun, thanks to the deep connection we’d built on the road. Our relationship evolved naturally, from showmance to something deeper. Today, we still tour most of the year, still share meals, but those bridge hideaways are rare now.
Alyssa Moore and Jacob Randell will be performing in Gravity & Other Myths’ Ten Thousand Hours at Arts Centre Melbourne from January 13 to 25. And this is the part most people miss: love, like circus, is all about taking risks and trusting the fall.
What’s your story? When was the moment you knew? Share your thoughts below—let’s spark a conversation!
