Carrying on with this fortnight’s theme of LOVE, Fader has a rather exciting revelation …
Miss Twenty-Nine xxx
Confession time: last week, when “well-refreshed” on rum cocktails and full of the Devon sea air, I drunkenly told The Prefect I loved him. Then I went to bed in alcohol-soaked shame.
I’ve definitely been in love once. Perhaps even twice. Generally speaking, because I don’t do flings, every relationship I’ve been in has been rocked by the L-Bomb at some point or another. It’s funny how saying it for the first time is so huge a deal, but then, over time, it fades away into something as normal as asking a partner if they’d like a cup of tea.
On the day I split up with my ex, we’d said it. What has a relationship come to when “bye, love you” in the morning turns into a break-up by night?
This is why The Prefect’s response to my pickled stupidity was so perfect.
He basically laughed, told me I was ridiculous and gave me a massive hug. But then he made the point that they are very big words to say, and that he’d been stung before by saying them too early. I felt like an utter idiot at this point (which is when I took myself off to bed) but the next day he was equally as good about it. “Gonna tell me you love me again, you crazy stalker?” he laughed, whilst bringing me breakfast in bed. I think my response was to groan miserably and bury my head under the duvet.
“It’s gonna go that way, though. Eventually,” The Prefect said quietly. “I really, really like you.”
“I really like you, too. Evidently, because I BLOODY said I loved you – I mean, honestly! How utterly ridiculous—”
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” he replied. Then, after a pause, he added, “What have you done to me? You’re making me have feelings. I am man! Man have no silly feelings!”
It was really the best way to make me feel better for being such an idiot, whilst also showing me that he’s happy with how things are going and sees himself falling for me, over time. He may be younger than me, but he has a wise head on those shoulders.
So yes. Fader has not Faded, and The Prefect, who stayed over a LOT during Easter without me needing to kick him out, is now My Boyfriend. I haven’t been someone’s girlfriend for so long. It feels very strange. But I like it.
Dropping the L-Bomb will happen, I think. Sometimes I sense that he wants to say it, but holds back. And I’m glad he does hold back. He’s right: there’s no rush, and we can afford to take it slowly.
Two things are certain, though: after that abominable performance last week, I am absolutely determined not to say it first regardless of any rum cocktails I may have ingested. And secondly, I will never allow the L-Bomb to become the sort of L-wet-fizzle that it did in my other relationships. Every time I say it from now on and into the future, I will mean it. I think I owe that to both myself and whichever chap with whom I may find myself.
For now, I’m disgustingly happy with The Prefect and everything we do together makes me smile. And no Bomb will put a hole in it quite yet.
Until next time,