My name is MusiqFreak and I’m a chocoholic. Seriously, it’s an addiction. Pretty soon after Megan and I had been dating and had declared our love for each other we started the sickening ‘no, I love you more’ battle. Megan knew sh*t was serious between us when I uttered the words ‘I love you more than chocolate.’
There seemed to me to be a million reasons why I loved this girl. Every day I found another reason to fall in love with her all over again. Every day was exciting. I was enjoying finding new ways to express just how much she meant to me and I tried not to ever take her love for granted.
We were that kind of couple that you can’t quite believe are for real. The ones that are so in love you kinda wonder if they’re high on something. We had our little in jokes and references, we had not just one song that we loved but many. I could probably list them all here. It wasn’t long before I realised that several of them seem to either directly or indirectly refer to someone as an angel.
It soon became my little pet name for Megan, or more of an endearment I guess. I wasn’t creative enough to write a song of my own (not without assistance) so instead I wrote her a few lines of a poem to call her my angel. It was so sweet it would give you a stomach-ache. I have the original here but I dare not post it online for fear of ridicule. Megan loved it, that was all that mattered to me.
The most significant reason I could find for my love for Megan was that she wanted me. She didn’t need me, she chose to be with me. When she could have chosen many other alternatives. The situation we had wasn’t perfect and she walked into what we had with her eyes wide open believing that I was worth it. That felt pretty amazing.
Then there were all of the other little things that made me come to the realisation that I just might love her more than chocolate. My happiness seemed to matter to her, much in the same way as hers did to me. I had never really experienced being equal in a relationship on an emotional level. It was a first for me, I had always been the one who was better at expressing feelings and emotions and my significant other would struggle or it would be like getting blood from a stone.
It was all so refreshing. Our relationship was completely out in the open by this point and there hadn’t been any fall-out from Megan’s ex or her family. Everything was plain-sailing. I had finally given myself permission to relax and be content with what we had. I was certain that any obstacle that came our way we would face together and overcome. I mean, Megan was already looking to relocate to be with me.
She was so proud of us and the love that we shared that she wasn’t afraid to let it show. I was finally comfortable with the public displays of affection in time to have someone to share them with. I had someone that wasn’t casting me aside for the attention from someone, anyone else. It’s not something alone that should make you fall in love with someone even more, but when you had the past that I had it certainly seemed like an amazing thing.
Megan was also a very nurturing person by nature. When she’d stay here in London with me she’d do things like cook for me, or make me a packed lunch. To begin with she wasn’t confident enough to drive through London to meet me for my lunch break so she’d settle for slipping a hand-written love note in with my lunch. On the second or third visit however we’d spend the lunch hour together every day when she’d visit.
In one of the many visits in the run up to Christmas she did the sweetest thing imaginable for me. There was a book-signing scheduled at Piccadilly Waterstones for Rod Stewart. He is my Mum’s all-time favourite and I knew that she would love a signed edition of his autobiography. The only problem was that the book-signing was scheduled for a day when I had to work and I couldn’t afford to take the time off as holiday. Megan volunteered to spend all day in the cold queueing just so that I could give my Mum the perfect Christmas gift. After that I was certain she was a keeper.
My little country-bumpkin hadn’t once ventured into central London on her own by this point so she was a bit nervous about navigating the tube system without me. She did rather well, and with camera in hand she even managed to snag a few photos as she waited in the queue of old Rod signing his books. I’ll give it to her though, when she got back and told me the story of her day in the queue it dawned on me that she’s not always as shy as she proclaims.
Many people waiting in line had bought more than one book for the living legend to sign. Megan only had the one so when she brazenly got to the front of the queue and much to the surprise of everyone else standing in line she asked for a kiss. Rod obliged (as if he wouldn’t, she was a young stunning could-be-a-model with a cheeky smile and sparkly blue eyes) he swiftly gave her a kiss on the cheek before she was ushered away and he had to sign the rest.
I remember laughing with Megan about her story and thinking it would be a great tale to tell on Christmas day to make my Mum jealous. There was no doubt in my mind that Megan would be there with me sharing Christmas with me and my family for at least a part of the day. We were both so sure of our future. In those days when we spent time together it seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of us.
I imagined spending the rest of my life discovering the multitude of ways that I could love this girl more than chocolate. For once I wasn’t looking at any niggling troubles under a microscope, we didn’t have any. We were good for each other. She was my angel, I was her world. Perhaps even better for us, she had gotten the news that she had been waiting for. Finally an interview for a job here in London. There was still a long way to go so we didn’t want to get our hopes up but we couldn’t quite help it.