Little Things

Almost every day I told Megan she was perfect. That me and her were the perfect fit and everything felt right when we were together. There are a heap of songs that tell the story of perfection being in the eye of the beholder, much like beauty. If anything you love someone more when you find out their little quirks and idiocies. To me, Megan could do no wrong.

Megan had her quirks and they were endearing. I loved it when she’d be all goofy and playful, often pulling funny faces and scrunching up her nose. I loved her freckles when she hated them. I loved her bouncy natural curls when she seemed to feel more confident when it was all sleek and straight (which took forever!) and it seemed that no matter what she wanted to wear she looked amazing. Jean and a t-shirt, like a rockstar. Joggers and a vest, like some athlete training for the next olympics. Dressed up to the nines, well she’d turn heads. Even when she dressed like a tree-hugging hippy she was perfect.

I still found it hard to believe that she wanted me, they way that she looked at me left me in no doubt at all that I was her world. Every day she would tell me just what I meant to her and every day I would be just as astonished as the first. The months were racing by and we seemed to have managed to get a bit of a routine going to cope with the long distance.

I encouraged Megan to spend time with friends and get out more so that she wasn’t sat home night after night pining away. It didn’t stop her from missing me altogether but I would have thought distractions would help. Plus I’d always get worried if the tone of her messages were off and it was healthy for the both of us to maintain a life aside from each other.

When I was back in Somerset I’d still try to make time for my friends, it was always an open invitation to Megan to spend time with them all too. I had made the mistake of losing myself in the ‘relationship bubble’ before and there was no way I was letting that happen again. My friends are important to me. Although I do have to confess that I didn’t have much time for my newest friends in London as I scurried off to Somerset every weekend.

We had all started out meeting and going for drinks in Soho on week-nights, we couldn’t all do that in the end. Shortly after we all attended London Pride together followed by mine and Megan’s relationship catching fire I found I was gradually spending less time with them as I preferred to go home to visit Megan. If they ever were meeting up during the week however, I always made sure I’d be present.

There were times when I would be out until the wee hours of the morning with the girls and Megan would be sat at home in Somerset just wondering what I was up to, when I’d be home and if she’d get her midnight message (a little later than scheduled). Sometimes I didn’t realise just how much the distance was getting to her, it was so easy to occupy my time when we weren’t together.

All the little things in my life were ticking along perfectly. When I was at home here in London I had the most amusing housemates, there was always a story to be told about dating exploits, random people in the house which I could never keep up with but was all good fun, a summer and autumn full of BBQ’s and drinking. Random moments like laughing until you cry as one of the housemates attempted to break a canvas painting over someones head and it just ended up looking like one of those whack-a-mole games… in fact that’s even on my youtube channel.

Then there was the banter when I was out with the girls in Soho, we would often start at a ‘Spoons and go on to the Candybar from there, if it was going to be a late one. The jokes would be so amusing that I swear we should have been on TV, some sort of fly-on-the-wall docuseries.

I’d also had my new role at work confirmed and was looking forward to taking on some new challenges with my career. It seemed like staying in London when I had almost thrown in the towel really was the best decision ever. I have one person to thank for it, and I’m pretty sure I never have, and I know you’ll read this. So thanks to Dana, for telling me to give it six months and offering me the lifeline of a room at your house. I don’t even want to imagine how life could have been.

Megan was fast becoming my world and eclipsing all of the great little things in my life. She managed to outshine everything and everyone and it was very hard keeping my feet on the ground. I think I pretty much failed at keeping my feet on the ground in the end. The great thing for me was, she was just as gaga for me too. I hadn’t ever known anything like it.

I’d often find a sweet little note on my iPad after I’d left Somerset for London and she’d have written a short paragraph about how much she loves me and how she wanted to spend forever together and how much she’d miss me while I was away in London. Telling me about the funny little things about me that she seemed to adore.

It really was all the little things that had me floating away into cloud cuckoo land where I seemed to live and breathe Megan. When she was upset I was too, when she was happy I was ecstatic. Sometimes it was hard to tell where her emotions ended and mine began, we seemed to be pretty thoroughly connected emotionally no matter the distance.

I remember one day when she was really grumpy and not feeling too great, she’d come home from work early to an empty house and we’d been texting back and forth and she was frustrated by rather limited food options in her house and decided to write off dinner and go to bed. Instead I ordered her a take out over the phone to be delivered to her, I made sure it was her favourite. It earned me some serious brownie points, but it also felt like an amazing thing to do. Ah, the little things.

We had even started talking about what to do next. It was out of the question for me to consider moving back to Somerset now, my career was just starting to go somewhere here in London. Megan eventually hinted at the idea of looking for a job in London. For the first time I had a little trepidation. We had only been together for three months.

Sure we had known each other much longer, years in fact. There was something in my head telling me it was moving too fast. Telling me that maybe Megan was doing this for all the wrong reasons. If she was going to be happy in London… first she’d have to want it for herself, her feelings for me should have been secondary. After we’d talking it through, and then talked it through some more. Megan convinced me that she had always wanted to try living in a city. I agreed to help her job-search.

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