It’s just like you see in the movies, isn’t it?
A young, happy go lucky, party going kid meets a girl. They hit it off and become instant friends, over the course of time however they realise there’s something there. Something more.
A dilemma now exists in the script. Is there something actually there? Or is it all in his head, will he take the risk?
Suddenly the two find themselves in a will they/won’t they? Scenario despite the crowd rooting for them.
During the final act of the movie our hero bites the bullet and reveals his inner feelings for her, amazingly she’ll blush, smile, and reveal that she feels the exact same way.
The two share a kiss that will be remembered forever, Savage Gardens ‘Truly, madly, deeply’ plays and the credits roll.
This was somehow a scenario I found myself in between the age of seventeen and eighteen. I remember it quite vividly.
Regular readers of my blog will know that I had a bit of a party streak at this age. Not a Saturday would pass without me drinking on it, be it a house party, beach party or illegally drinking down town.
It was one fateful Halloween night in 2007 where this somehow changed.
Returning drunk from a house party, dressed as a fucking emo (how fitting for this blog post) I log into Myspace and just potter around on there at three in the morning. It’s then where I got a message complimenting my Myspace wallpaper.
Somehow, that one compliment turned into a friendship that found its way onto MSN. Suddenly, me and her were talking daily and nightly. She lived in Milton Keynes but was due to move to Plymouth so she figured she’d pre-emptively meet the locals. It wasn’t until April when we finally met in person.
“Don’t like her, don’t like her, don’t like her” I remember internally chanting to myself as I waited outside a local Boots chemist for her. She approached from the distance.
I liked her.
Thankfully I was capable of keeping this under a thick blanket of denial, it was only a few meetings later where a real nasty infatuation crept up on me and punched me in the face.
It was suddenly then when she occupied my thoughts at every passing moment. I would needlessly worry, I would always want to see her, I would always want to talk to her. I wanted to be with her. And these thoughts stuck with me for a good two-three months. Nagging everyone excessively for their opinion on if I was in with a shout.
It was one of the last weekends in June, Dan and Luke had invited me out. This time however I chose to decline on account that Stace had a parent-free house and she wanted to see if I’d pop over for a movie or two.
We watched ‘It’s all gone Pete Tong’ during said movie I’m pretty sure we inched ever so closer together, the fictitious audience just screaming at us do make a move.
The night steadily started turning into day, twilight looming outside. For some reason we both decided to lie on the rug, with a small blanket over the both of us.
Entwined in a little cuddle, that should have been the moment I went “I’m going in” that should have been the perfect kiss.
Instead, I realised I had a brutal 7-3 shift and had to subsequently leave.
The regret of the missed opportunity circled my head like a typhoon, her lips were inches from mine and I didn’t take the obvious signs, I moaned biblically to Dave in work about my gutlessness that morning.
“Yeah, but at least you know she’s into you know, like…She’s gotta be”
“Yeah you’re right, fuck it I’ll text her when I get home”.
Instead, I went home and fell asleep to the royal variety performance. I woke up in a daze near the midnight mark, in which I would finally send ‘that text’. Not the most romantic way to declare ones desires but it was the best I could muster after a summer of being shit with women.
It was at that moment where my life changed completely. Either June 22nd, or 23rd (unsure seeing as it was around midnight way) she text back saying she’ll ‘bite the bullet’ with me.
The next day we hung out and had our first kiss under the tree we spent all of our time under. One singular tree in the middle of a secluded area of the local park. Thinking of it, I haven’t been back to that tree in the longest of times.
It went from there really, we ran into Dave and Tanita in the streets. The two people who I had probably divulged most information of my infatuation to, and it was at that moment where I realised that all of the months of picturing ‘us’ together had actually become a reality.
She fit in with my group of friends like the missing piece of a jigsaw, our dark and dry humour complimented each other perfectly, in the grand scheme of things this was the end of our rom-com movie.
But what happens when the credits stop rolling?
In the space of the near seven years we were together we had moved into four different places, we had heated arguments and clashes that could have lasted hours, but not once did we end the day on a fight, even if it was five in the morning, maybe even six we’d still end up making up before ending the day.
Only in late 2014 did these cracks start to show.
This isn’t a name and shame blog post, how we broke up quite frankly is irrelevant. It was not a spur of the moment break up, it was a very much like how we got together, simply in reverse. Will they won’t they? Pretty much the entire world could see that it was going to shit.
It started off simple enough, she’d head out to get free bus tickets from some bloke. This required meeting before his work, out the door at four in the morning, back within ten minutes, back to bed. Done.
Then over the course of time the length of time started to increase, out the door at four in the morning back at five.
The frustration grew as plans were altered to see him, the four A.M ticket pick ups turned into three hour affairs. The guys wife was now ringing up constantly.
Turns out the guy was getting ‘too’ into her, and she told them. Shit hit the fan, the bus driver was gone and for a good six weeks I had a sense of normality back in my life.
Then, during the Season five premier of The Walking Dead he came back, and the whole thing started again.
The final nail in the coffin was where the previous blog post left off. New Years day.
I returned home fourteen hours after leaving the house, to emptiness. Her phone off as I try to call constantly wondering where the fuck she could possibly be.
She enters about six in the evening. No apology, explanation, or remorse.
Final nail in the coffin, I just didn’t care any more.
It’s like watching your football team trail 1-0 in the dying seconds of the final. You make one last counter attack, hoping by some miracle Steven Gerrard belts out the game changing equaliser. 1-1, extra time and back in with a shout.
Sadly, the reality is he pile drives the ball right over the post, the keeper dawdles around with the goal kick and that final whistle is set to blow pretty much the moment his foot makes contact with the ball.
You know it’s coming, yet it still stings like a bitch when that final nail goes into the coffin. Though it comes as no surprise whatsoever, you still somehow cannot believe it.
But when you share the same bed as the person who you once couldn’t stop thinking about, who you once spent every waking moment wanting to be with, who once meant everything in the world to. Suddenly that world is the distance between you in that little bed, you know there’s literally no point in going on.
It was whilst making a bowl of pasta where we broke up.
She fucks off to the Bus drivers house, I set up camp on the sofa.
Watching Hollyoaks until about five in the morning, I realise that at twenty-four, just one month away from being twenty-five. For better or worst my life was about to drastically change.
Frankly, looking back I didn’t realise how drastic this change would be.
Welcome to my single life, it’s gonna be one hell of a fucking ride.