Falling in love. That feeling you get when an aeroplane is just about to take off. Sweaty. Slightly buzzed and smelling of cheap white wine. Nervous.
My words were all mixed up as I tried to walk in strikingly thin heels down a road so cobbled that I fell over and smacked my face on a tree. He held my hand for the first time and I hoped – for dear life! – that he felt the warm tingly-ness flowing through his veins.
We moved in together. Every time he took a forkful of salad I noticed how he made a horrid, metallic scraping noise with his teeth.
The lovely painting on our bedroom wall gets thrown onto the floor out of spite and pure hatred. I never knew I could hate him this much. But this slowly melted into a glorious puddle of after-sex sweat. He’s glowing, he looks at me with shiny puppy eyes and gives me that slow, soft half-cheeky half-teethy George Clooney smile.
He smiles again, but this time his face is scrunched up, eyes wide and fearful, looking like a pug – innocent and excited. My face was bright red, I was pushing, pushing as hard as I could. For over an hour. A baby was thrown into my arms. I look up at my smug pug and see pure love.
Little heart-shaped post-it notes found crumpled and torn, shoved at the back of my sock drawer. “You look beautiful today. Can’t wait to have dinner with you tonight.” The baby starts crying. I shove it back in my drawer.
And now, he looks faded. The colour swept from his cheeks. He looks at me with hollow eyes. We both haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in three months. My love for him is blurry. I can’t tell what bothers me about him the most, the way he breaks really hard at a round-about or how he gets defensive about putting a bin liner in the bin? We fight and fight and fight about small things, big things, who’s turn is it to do the night-shift? I start to bite my tongue, it’s not worth it anymore.
Until there is nothing left. We are roommates. “Did you pick up the nappies like I asked?”
The bath is full of rose petals. I could smell sweet teriyaki chicken baking in the oven. He walks out of the bedroom wearing a full-on tuxedo. I tell him I love bearded penguins.
We make love like penguins.
And here I sit, with a pillow on my lap staring at a computer screen, trying to think of the best way to position how my relationship has changed. My boyfriend laying on the sofa, like a lion, always on his side as if he is a Roman being fed grapes. His Leo horoscope calls him proud and sensitive, loyal and stubborn – and I agree. I google our horoscope signs as if it’s going to tell me exactly how our relationship will play out. Are we a perfect match?
Will our love stand the test of time? What was I thinking – a bloody (…and I don’t even say bloody…) horoscope can’t tell me this. Nobody can tell me this. And I will never really know. But for now, I am a happy, also a bit tired and itchy (from hay fever).
Love is a fucking rollercoaster but I’m up for the ride with Jukes (…..no not that kind of ride…..well… maybe once I’ve had a good night’s sleep).
p.s. Jukes, I love you with all my butt, I would say heart, but my butt is bigger.
If you liked this post, I would love, love, love your support (it takes one minute) to nominate me for Reader’s Choice award for the BiBs 2017