How did you meet the great love of your life?

Two days into the bank holiday the question popped after a few hours and a few beers under the sun. The married ones easily spoke fondly of how they met their spouses while the not-so-married ones skiddley-doo-dah-ed, anxious to change topics. It got me thinking…When I was a child, I was a huge fan of love in its Rainbow Brite coloured glory. I believed in flowers and fairy tale endings, grand gestures and the thrill of the chase, celebrating monthsary dates and a million kisses in the rain. All that jazz.

Somewhere between youth and adulthood the hopeless romantic grew up, fell in and out of love, saw a handful of hearts broken into a million pieces and turned into a cynical crud. I tried to believe in the 100% strength of the yihee/kilig factor by documenting stuff and telling everyone (myself included) how happy I was (I really was). I devoured those moments but fun as they were there was, almost always, something amiss; whilst I knew I felt something genuine, there was still some some sort of emotional disconnect. I just couldn’t see beyond the yihee/kilig. I wanted to (and God knows I’ve tried), but I couldn’t. Unlike other girls who had their plans sorted from flower arrangements down to the white fluffy dress, I couldn’t find the happy ever after and often wondered, when a relationship didn’t work out, if I’d ever be happy after.

Then again perhaps the annoying cynic was just a facade… a wall I’ve put up for protection. I say this because in a way I still believed in possibilities. I still imagined and played scenes in my head as to how I would meet the love of my life. My favourites included the following:

At a train station:
Because yes, harana will always be uso.

 

At a record store:
Here’s Charlotte Gainsbourg & Johnny Depp from that scene in …And They Lived Happily Ever After.
Ahhh…. wouldn’t that be something to tell the grandkids?
So how did I meet the great love of my life? I’m sure I’ve talked about this before… but you know, two years after burying the inner cynic and after a string of dates, mates and exchange rates I’ve realised that though music will always be my first real love, I am actually capable of really and truly being in love with an actual human being. 100% deadset. Like most relationships there’s a lot to be afraid of. This may or may not be the great love of my life, there may or may not be a happy ever after – who knows? The surprising thing is, I’ve never felt the audacious desire to find out… until now. Possibly because the timing is right, definitely because I’ve never been this happy. Ever. And it bloody feels great.
I still can’t see myself in a white fluffy dress, but that’s because I prefer a slick nude silk-chiffon. And if this road does lead to a happy ever after, we’ll tell the grandkids that it all started with this (ironically):

Go open yourself to the possibilities of life. If you’re lucky enough, you might just find something (or someone) that could surprise you in more ways than one.

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