Beautifully written, eloquently put. Painfully yet now it’s over, happily true.
The Beautiful Sunday started off damp and autumnal. Despite the bold sunlight trying to burst through the stubborn clouds, the wind howled and blew rain against the windows. My cat skulked around your feet as you smoked on the back step, darted out as you closed the door. Bounced around the garden, dodging drops and mewing to be let in as quickly as she’d gone out. Sunday was seldom a day of any note…Sabbath Bloody Sabbath; Catch up TV, cleaning house half-arsedly and frequently nursing a sore head from Saturday night’s shenanigans. A day with its own mundane routines and rituals, which usually added up to a whole heap of nothing.
Sunday 20th October 2013 was different. In a wildly varied year, one day in which I could say with confidence
“Life is Spanky!”
On the surface, an ultimate day of lazing. We got up unhurried and chain-drank tea…Taking it in relays for the lav as a result! As you requested, we watched a DVD of The Mighty Boosh…I convulsed with laughter at the slightest provocation, whilst you were slightly more composed. However, I was encouraged by the number of instances of mutual giggling fits and snuggled closer. At lunchtime, I knocked up some pasta and we chowed down. I was weirdly gratified when you enjoyed it. Afterwards we lay tangled up together on the sofa. Two pairs of long legs wrapped together in odd but comfortable positions. Arms around each other. Breathing one and other in, my snakey long hair getting in your face. Rather than pulling a strop about it, you merely blew it out of the way. Planet Rock was on the radio, random conversation about everything and anything filled the air and took up hours. We were laughing and snogging each others’ faces off like daft kids. You’re not that young and I’m not that old…8 years’ age gap and enjoying every minute we can get. Long distance, but the times apart sweet like the times together. No awkwardness, treading on eggshells or feeling tested. If this is how it’s meant to be, I want more of it.
Holding you close and AC/DC playing. Finally living in the moment and flipping my weird past the bird…Inviting it to fucking well do one for good. Feeling sad when you had to leave, but looking forward to seeing you again and not getting devoured by melancholy and the infinite sadness. It’s different when you know where you are with someone and not left hanging. Complications, difficult, delusional people were not for fixing. Just for leaving in times gone by where they belonged. Three weeks in and I already knew you’re different to anyone who went before. That the situations I’d felt uncomfortable in were not only wrong, but should never have happened. At last I started to believe I was worth more.
When you’d gone, I fell asleep where we’d been laying together. The cushions smelled faintly of you and Bettiecat curled up into my chest. I woke when you text to say you’d got home safely. I felt content and warm with the memory of a fantastic weekend. I want to thank you from my little toenail up to the longest hair on my head for showing me what it is to be treated properly. Think I forgot years ago. You’re a wonderful man and make me smile every time I think of you.
I guess this blog post is the 21st century version of writing about the person you feel knocked out over in your band’s Zine. I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together, the texts, chats and phone conversations we’ve had when we’ve been apart. Looking forward to seeing you again on Friday; You bright, beautiful, bizarre creature!