5 posts tagged “love”

I've always been partial to great big, Bridget-Jones style knickers..  The ones that are huge, comfy - horrendous.

Ok, they're not pretty.. But they're practical.  Ish..  They are guilty of giving you a great big VPL, which makes your bottom look as though it should have it's own postcode.. They are guilty of screaming, quite obviously, "I am not going to have sex with you tonight, because I have big pants on!".  But, I think my big knickers are quite cute..  Suprisingly, so does the other-half.

The other-half's first meeting with my beloved big knickers, was when I moved house..

Most things had managed to slip out of the woodwork, over the years we'd been together.. He'd heard my horrendous guffawing laughter, he'd witnessed fits of giggles that land me in tears, with hiccups .. He had tolerated my irrational love-affair with shoes that I can't walk in or afford, and the countless sets of 'pretty' underwear that I bought for no obvious reason at all.  But he hadn't seen the big pants.

Granted, I had, and still have, a slight habit of buying pretty underwear when I don't really need it.  But for all the pretty knickers in the world, I wouldn't give up my granny-pants.

As I emptied my enormous collection of pretty (and not-so-pretty) undies into a cardboard box - I shoved the huge pants to the bottom.  I was secretly hoping that we could be together for the rest of our lives - but that, somehow, he'd still be unaware of my dirty little secret (well, clean big secret, actually!)..  A tragic love affair with horrendous knickers..

As he hauled the boxes into the back of my car, he noted the rather large box marked 'undies'.  Winking, he laughed, "Better be careful with these, eh?"  I smiled back at him, quitely amused that he was unaware that nestling in the bottom of the box, lay ten pairs of huge knickers, that once white - were now a murky gray..  (In-amongst other horrible knickers - but that set of ten, in all honesty, really were the worst..).

(I know I should have thrown them out.  But, they were comfy.  And quite frankly - sometimes it's nice to slob out in your big pants and know full well that you look awful!)

Unfortunately, there were not ten pairs of huge knickers in that box.  There were nine.  The tenth lay on my bedroom floor - waiting to be discovered. 

He did discover those knickers.  He laughed, and waved them in the air like a great big grey flag.. 

That night, I came out of the shower to find my big knickers waiting for me.. 
More importantly, I found my other-half, waiting for me to put them on.

"How did you meet your current, or most recent, significant other?"

I met my other-half in High School..  He was popular, funny, and clever..  I never thought he'd look twice at me. 

But he knew my name.  And even when he was in a crowd of people who didn't bother to acknowledge me, he would always speak to me. 

I thought he had a fantastic bottom - but it never even occured to me that there might be a chance of a relationship.

I went on holiday with a group of friends - mainly male - who he played football with occasionally.  He was invited too.. 

I confided in my best friend - who advised me against getting involved while we were abroad.  He was right - afterall, it's easy to get carried away on holiday.  But we'd have to come home at some point..

He'd been on a few dates with another girl before we went abroad - but he'd told her that he simply wasn't ready for a relationship..

I'd just come out of a particularly negative relationship, and certainly didn't want to get into anything (other than perhaps His pants..) serious.. 

After a week abroad - spent flirting and being generally unable to keep our hands off each other..  It finally happened.  We kissed, in a dirty, damp Spanish bar - and stayed up until the small hours, sat on cold, concrete steps.  We must have been freezing, but we didn't notice at all..

We spent the last week of our holiday tip-toeing around everyone - sneaking off together for snatched moments in private.. 

We were starting something which would cause problems.  And we knew that from the start.  But, we were, and are, both completely aware of the issues we would cause by embarking on a relationship together. 

I come from a religous family.. And so does He..  The problem?  Two different religions.  Two different cultures.  Two different familes. 

Right from the beginning, we knew what we would have to face..  We talked about it, and there was no question in my mind.  I knew that I was prepared to take anything that was thrown at us, and so was he.

We were lucky, really..  We dealt with a bit of staring, a bit of name-calling and over-dramatic idiots picking fights..  But nothing serious, really..  Infact, we have given each other more to deal with than anyone else has ever given us.  We have dealt with situations that we never imagined we would have to..  But we've stuck together, confident that we'd find a solution somehow..  We've learnt an important lesson - that not every problem can be fixed.  And while we've struggled to deal with all sorts - depression, death, spending a great deal of our relationship in a long-distance situation - we haven't always found the solution.  But we cope..  We always find a way through.
 

We are an interracial couple.
Interracial.  I used to hate that word.

Now, I don't care what people want to refer to us as..  Our skin colour differs, our religions differ, our opinions usually differ..  Our favourite drinks, clubs, music, food, bars.. They all differ.  Everything about us differs..  It isn't 'race' that sets us apart as 'different'.  Every single thing about us sets us apart as different..

But we walk down the same road.  We have the same goals..  He will watch crap movies with me, and I'll pretend to be interested in the terrible music he listens to..   Most importantly, the fact that we are different helps us to deal with situations we face..  He is non-confrontational, he thinks before he speaks..  I storm in and take immediate action - then think.  As horribly slushy as it sounds - he really is the other-half..  And together, we can cope with almost anything.

Almost five years after we kissed in Spain..  The other-half and I, we are still drastically different..  Our situations are different, our relationship is different.. But we have stayed the same - still irretrieveably different.  Still madly in love.

We are not an interracial couple. 
We are not defined by the colour of our skin, or our religion.. 

We want the same things - we want children who are loved and who are educated about religion.  We want to bring our children up to be tolerant, understanding and open minded. 

We want to eat Thai and sit in fancy bars, discussing everything and nothing - all at once.. 

We want to hold hands on that beach again, and be reminded that we still have our whole lives ahead of us.  Nothing has changed since that very first day.  I still think he has the best bottom I've ever seen, I still can't keep my hands off him (even after doing his laundry and putting up with his snoring for years!), and I still think he's the most awe inspiring person I know...

He's away now - travelling, making a difference to people who are ill, and less fortunate than ourselves..   I miss him more than I could ever have imagined.. But, I have never been so proud of anyone in all my life

I don't know whether it was the appauling amount of alcohol I'd managed to consume..  Or if it was simply that this time of year always reminds me of him..

But either way, I missed him.  I'd missed him before, but all that heart rendering emotion had quite frankly turned into something not quite so pleasant..

And then, when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve - I didn't turn into a pumpkin, but instead, I turned back into the teary-eyed girl who really thought she could cope with long-distance love.

The truth is, I probably did have the balls to cope with it.  And as it turned out, I wouldn't have had to in the end anyway.. 

There he was, stood right infront of me, and all I felt was an overwhelming urge to burst into tears.  All those miles between us had been taken away.  I had wanted that moment for years..  Years and years of words had gone by, but right at that moment, face-to-face, there was just nothing to say..

I wasn't ready to forgive.

I'm still not ready to forgive. 
But I'm not ready to stop missing him.  Yet.

We've both moved on now.. Different lives, different cities ..  Different people.

Do I wish it could have been different?
I honestly don't know..  But I know that he'll never fit back into the space that you left behind.  As cliche as it sounds, everything really is different now.

Broken hearts can be mended..  But broken trust?  It takes a very special person to repair broken trust..

The bottom line is, I got what I wanted.  Mostly.  - And I am certainly not the victim in any sense of the word.. Neither of us is..

I made my choices and I stuck to my decisions..  Part of me wanted him around too.  But, you can't have everything.. :)