Monday, 14 July 2014

This is all I know at the moment

If there was ever a way to press pause on a moment and bottle it, now would be the perfect time.

This is what's going through my head as I lie there fully clothed, the thumping hangover slowly worsening or abating, I can't tell which.

Hip hop plays low in the background. An arm slips around me, the other hand finds mine, and I bury my head in his neck.

"Bloody hell, I'm dying" I say, because the night before ended at 6am when daylight crept into the party, and only then was it time to go home.

It was when I woke up later that morning that the text was there, asking if I wanted to come round that night.

"I can't do tonight, but do you fancy just being a hungover mess with me this afternoon?" I replied, because he'd had a big one too, and misery loves nothing more than company when it's only a short, slightly ropey, too-hot-for-this-hangover bus journey down the road.

I told no one where I was going; there was no one to tell anyway, but it felt nice to just disappear to his flat in the middle of the afternoon, pull down the blinds and forget about the outside world for a while.

In fact, I tell no one about any of it, save a few close people who know me well enough not to ask too much, and not to share the details they hear.

Because this is how dating seems to go; it's uncertain, it's fun, and it's mostly closing your eyes and storing this moment because you're not sure how it will turn out later. 

And all I know is what experience tells me: that this - whatever it is - isn't ready to be labelled yet, won't be for a while, and doesn't need to be prodded in the way my friends would if they knew. 

What would I say if the questions came? That it's not as terrifying as it was at the start, certainly; that he's 30% familiar, and 70% an unknown mystery, but we're working on that with every date.

Well, sort of.

"You're going to a desert island and can only have one soft drink and one alcoholic drink forever", he says, 'what you having?"
"Ribena. And a gin and tonic" I reply, "you?"
"Strawberry milkshake and a White Russian." he returns.
"Interesting. A milky choice there."
Then I turn around and he curls behind me, and all I know is that even with a hangover, this is a good place to be at the moment. 

So with the important questions covered, for now, we nap. 


nuttycow said...


Leigh said...

This is so lovely.

Around My Kitchen Table said...

Aaahhh - this is a really romantic post, despite the hangover allusions! Love it.


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