Saturday 3 October 2009

Looking back, over my shoulder...


Things I miss today, in no particular order:

  • Reading the b3ta newsletter in bed with coffee, juice and lots of laughter.
  • Walks in Sefton Park. Spring, Summer, Winter, Autumn. It's lovely no matter what the season and was the setting for many a deep and meaningful conversation. It was also the scene of an 8am stroll after a night out which culminated in nearly falling asleep under a willow tree. Truly one of the loveliest experiences ever.
  • Friday night food and wine. Trips to Tesco and Asda for ingredients. Cooking together. Me not being allowed to stir the food in case I messed it up. Pretending that I wanted to help when really it was lovely to be cooked for by my very own little chef.
  • Making plans for the future. Day trips. Weekends away. Formulating life plans. Talking about hopes and dreams and fears. Just talking actually. Nights spent talking about anything and everything, never running out of things to say.
  • Nights spent clubbing. Having my own personal DJ before we went out. Who also made the most perfect gin and tonics. The secret? You've always got to lime the rim. The coach ride to Manchester. The dancing. The laughing. 
  • Even more than the actual night out, the following day spent with wine and the duvet. Our favourite TV shows, endlessly on repeat because we were usually to busy talking or laughing to actually watch them. And on those wondrous duvet days, being treated like a princess. He wouldn't let me do anything for myself. Always fetching me drinks and food and anything else I wanted. Stroking my hair if I felt poorly and putting his arms around me.
  • The feeling that I was with someone who would never judge me, no matter what I told them. Someone who would hold me when I was sad and pick me up when I was fallen. I've never felt so comfortable and so close to anyone in my whole life. 
  • The fact that we liked everything the same. And I mean everything. But, even more, the fact that we disliked all the same things too. Like two peas in a pod we were. Two very daft little peas.
  • Being ordered for in restaurants. Letting him pick the wine and loving the fact that he actually knew what he was talking about. 
  • The way he used to fall asleep with his hand clenched round a chunk of my hair and a little smile on his face. I've never felt more happy and content in my whole life than when things were peaceful and easy and all was well.

Was it really all a sham? Was it really meaningless? Because I was there. I was there for all of it. And I don't believe that it was. It was real and wonderful and challenging and passionate and difficult and frustrating and happy and sad and a million and one other emotions. But that's what love is.

And, as happy as I am with myself these days, I'm absolutely terrified that I'll never feel those things again. That I won't be able to let myself love someone again. That I'll never let someone in the way I did with him. That I'll never again find the other half of me. That person who fitted perfectly with me and made a whole.

This post was brought to you today by a stonking hangover, an hour spent looking at old photos and reminiscing and a fear of ending up alone.