Three years that feel as though I have lived my life only for them, 3 years that have filled me with more vitality than I'd ever imagined, and with growing pains that I continue to learn from and try to understand.
I'd been in Paris for the weekend, alone, because the night before we were due to go she had let me down, again. And then I'd flown straight to Amsterdam for a days work on the Monday. It had been a strange time in Paris, wandering the streets, someone who mostly loves my own company, and yet my own company felt harder that weekend because it was disappointed, discouraged, and prickly with confusion about she and I.
Traveling from City Airport that Monday to meet him, I was dressed smartly from my working day. A high waisted pencil skirt and a fitted navy blouse, heels, and my hair glossy and long, and I was excited, so I think that was probably glowing around and about me.
It's not like I loved him then. I didn't. I don't think I really knew what I felt, other than being in his company was both comforting and thrilling. I felt alive because I felt I brought him alive too. We enjoyed being in one another's company, we smiled a lot, our conversation was warm and animated, and most of all, he was interested in me, he listened, he cared.
If I had to try now and think back to what it was that we gave one another then, he was curious about me, I felt he was engaged by me, he questioned me, he intuitively knew how to peel back my layers. I think he was glad to find my openness, my acceptance and my support. He could share with me parts of who he was and knew that I'd be fine with them. And it was fun. Isn't is always fun and life affirming discovering someone new, reveling in one another's thoughts and desires and interests.
But I still didn't think that anything was ever really going to happen.
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