When I hear the prompt ‘independence’, I am reminded of a holiday in Hungary when I was nineteen. I had gone with a boy I barely knew after a holiday romance the month before. We travelled from Prague to Vienna to Budapest: on our first day in the Hungarian capital I realised I couldn’t use the euros I had from Vienna, and so set about finding a cash machine. I was already reliant on this guy for shelter, and he had planned out our days with little input from me. This was fine, I thought. I was an inexperienced traveller and he was three years older: clearly it made sense for him to decide...