I meet this amazing man, a seemingly perfect man. He is kind and sweet and funny and super intelligent. We begin slow, getting to know each other through our shared interests. We have so much to talk about that romance or dating is never mentioned. I wonder if he likes me, then dismiss the thought, deciding that knowing him is enough. Friendship with this wonderful and interesting human is enough.
I relax into our conversations and take comfort in his daily messages. He catches a cold and I genuinely wish him better. I send him positivity and old Jamaican natural remedies. He thanks me and tells me that he likes my outlook on life. He also likes my silliness, my love of astrology and the vibrancy and detail of my dreams, but, he still does not tell me that he likes me romantically.
A hilariously funny thing happens to me and before I tell anyone else; before the girls, Cherry, Preeti, 90210, or even my mother, I pick up the phone to tell him. He laughs. He wants to know more so I seize the opportunity and say I will over dinner (a dinner for friends or a date?) I am being forward but I want to know if there is a possibility he might like me. He agrees. He calls me later that evening and his face lights up at mine as he stares down the phone. I really really really like him, yet annoyingly still, am unsure what he thinks about me. Our dinner is a pleasant success, the conversations deepen, our lives entwine. We fall headfirst down the rabbit hole – willingly. Time disappears as we discover likes, dislikes and considerations for what constitutes a deal-breaking, hard no. Then comes our first proper sleepover.
I make my way to a magical fairytale-esq cottage in the garden of England. Holding hands we walk around a quaint country village that is lit up by blue and white Christmas lights. Suddenly he stops. He bends down to kiss me, squeezing me so tightly I melt into his chest. He is perfect. He is everything that I want and need.
Back at the cottage we relax watching football, eating take out and pretending not to sneak sideways glances at the other. We are blissfully happy to be alone together. After the match, we head upstairs where a four poster bed awaits. Everything is delightful. Everything is just as we imagined or better. Into the 1am darkness, we whisper out our hopes, dreams and wishes. We laugh at our slow start and decide to not let the other person go, as we both believe the other to be perfect. With laced fingers and spooned bodies my eyes begin to slowly close. He falls asleep. Secure and loved in a tight embrace, I listen to the rhythmical rise and fall of his breathing.
A loud noise interrupts my semi-slumber! It gets louder. It does not stop. I try to block it out but I cannot. Peculiar and unfamiliar snoring disrupts the serene dark silence. I look over to the clock and it is 2am.
I repeat cycles of attempting to drown out this god awful noise. I look at the clock: 03.17, 04.29, 05.41. At six am I lose my head, I cannot sleep, I cannot think straight. All thoughts become murderous. It escalates quickly and before I know it I am reaching for the pillow. I hover above him, the eiderdown weapon stretched out over his head. Without further thought the full force of the pillow comes smashing down and I use all of my weight to smother him!
Or, at least that is what I would do if he were not the most fabulous man I had ever met. Luckily this was only a dream, oh no sorry, this was not a dream, it were a fantasy, because he is still snoring and I am yet to go to sleep!
~ with love from a cosy cottage, with a not so perfect person who snores but makes me very happy ~