blue monday

Sixteen years ago this afternoon I sat in a cafe and waited nervously for the boy I'd asked to come meet me there.

He came in, freezing cold from cycling in the sleet, his long hair and leather jacket dripping. He didn't look happy.

I swiftly ordered a second hot chocolate for him, wanting to warm him up, and lighten his mood. And after hemming and hawing, asked him if what we were doing was serious. And I've just remembered, that when he affirmed that it was, I think I said, 'Ok. I will try not to sleep with your best friend anymore.'

Which wasn't the classiest promise to make, and no wonder it took him some time to trust me, and it had taken me six months to hunt him down to that point. But, I knew myself, then. I wasn't sure what I could be.

And I did think, oh I'm going to hurt him. And he's too nice for me.


And then he went on an already booked holiday, and god, I missed him. And he talked about me to his friend for a solid week. And when he came home, we said, we're going to move in together. Yes.

And we did, six months later. When I was 18 years and 4 months old. And while I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with him, I couldn't imagine not. And it was remarkably easy not to sleep with anyone else.

I wish I could talk to the 17 year old I was then. Learn from her, because I don't remember what it was like to be her. I wish I had her dreams and plans back, but all she knew she wanted was to go to college, and have someone of her own to love, someone who'd love her back. And a house to live in. And children, children.

And I wish I could teach her too. About expectations, and self worth. And how fast sixteen years can pass by.