Two Years of Us

Two Years of Us - anniversary

Whenever I tell people how long G and I have been together, they always look surprised. “Is that all?” they say. There have been moments where I’ve said to G that it feels like we’ve been together an age and he always jokes that I make it sound like I’ve had to sit through a boring film that felt like it would never end.

I guess we’ve fit a lot into two years. It’s funny how quickly someone becomes such an important part of your life, how quickly you can’t imagine life without them.

G and I met for the first time in August 2014. It was the first week of my job at the time and I was attending a big meeting in Manchester. There was a good twenty people in the room and we were sat next to each other. Apparently. I have no memory of this, although G does; I thought we met in November when my manager introduced us. Awkward.

I don’t quite remember how we got chatting over work emails but we did and eventually he asked if I fancied going out for a drink. It was the beginning of January 2015 and I genuinely hesitated as I was on my way to meet him. Not because of him but because of that general fear of social anxiety. Like oh god, I don’t really know him, what if we have nothing to say and it suddenly ends up being really awkward?

Anyway, I told myself to get a grip and went to the pub, thinking that if that situation did occur, I could just have the one drink and then head home.

I don’t really remember how many I did have. I do remember laughing a lot and suddenly realising that I was drunk at about 10 at night. And throwing up the next morning in a classy fashion.

Needless to say, there was no awkwardness. There was lots of chatting and laughing, and he came back to St Pancras with me so I could catch my train, despite the fact that it was out of his way. I think he kissed me on the cheek but that night’s a bit of a happy haze.

Over the next few weeks we went out for drinks a few more times, and to a gig, with a lot of texting in between. We used to stand in the middle of St Pancras station late at night waiting for my train. That was where we had our first kiss. If you’d seen us during those few weeks, saying goodbye, you’d have probably rolled your eyes and told us to get a room. But I really couldn’t have given two shits.

And then on Valentine’s Day 2015 (purely coincidental), I went round his for the first time. He cooked jambalaya and we opted to stay in rather than go to the pub. The next morning he made pancakes just cos I said I fancied them.

And from then, we were together. The next weekend, he came to mine for the first time and we went to St Albans for the afternoon. I can remember walking round the park and telling him that I’d always fancied living there so you know, I sowed the seed early…

London was a big part of the first year of our relationship. We did so much. Day trips and quirky cinemas, fancy meals and going up skyscrapers, rooftop bars and theatre trips. G had the most incredible view of the London skyline from his house and we could climb onto the roof from his balcony. We watched sunsets and the New Year fireworks, and all the planes coming into land. Admittedly south London was a bit of a pain to get to but I fell in love with London properly that year.

When I was younger, I always thought the kinda guy I would go for was a guy into writing and literature. A guy who liked dreaming as much as I do, and questioned the big things and probs read poetry.

My teenaged self was such a cliché.

I actually did go out with a couple of guys like that. My main experience? They never get shit done. Ever. Questioning the big things meant they questioned you and their relationship with you constantly. Reading poetry meant they preferred to sit in a darkened room with their poetry book, and smoking. They thought that was glamorous.

In reality, going out with my teenaged-self’s ideal guy was pretty darn stressful. And boring.

Maybe we were just too similar. Or maybe they were just knobs. Either way.

Unlike previous guys, I never had to deal with mind games or ‘playing it cool’ or trying to guess if he’s being sarcastic or a twat over text with G. There was just never any bullshit.

G is good at, and enjoys, maths. My maths teacher once told my parents that I had a ‘mental block’ when it came to mathematics and, quite frankly, I still use my fingers to add up. G likes sport and has several medals from running races. We all know the idea of me running anywhere is laughable. He’s tidy, I’m messy. He sensibly puts money into savings, I debate if I can buy my twelfth candle of the month. When we decide to head out, he puts his shoes on. I faff cos I gotta go for a wee and have I actually brushed my hair today and where the fuck did I put my keys goddamn it?! In my head, I often compare us to Wallace and Gromit. I’m Wallace, wandering around coming up with mad ideas and eating cheese. He’s Gromit, rolling his eyes and pointing out the impracticalities of my mad idea (usually that we can’t actually afford it…).

I must be a pain in the arse but he doesn’t seem to go away.

So maybe there is something in the ‘opposites attract’ theory.

I think it probably seemed like we did everything fast. After three weeks together, we went away for a long weekend in the Lake District. A couple of months after that, we booked a holiday for the next year, with no doubt that we’d still be together. Tbh I’ve lost count of the amount of trips away we’ve taken together. After just six months, we started talked about moving in together and, just after our first anniversary, we did. At one point, we were talking about moving to Manchester (for cheaper housing). If one of my friends had told me they were thinking about moving hundreds of miles away with a guy they’d been with a few months I’d be like ‘um babes, you crazy?!’ We share a bank account. We live together. We plan to buy a house together, and we’ve spoken about marriage and babies like we already know it’ll happen someday.

But, it never felt fast. It felt like everything happened at a completely natural pace. It’s only when I’m asked how long we’ve been together, that it suddenly occurs to me that it sounds like a relatively short amount of time.

So today, Valentine’s Day 2017, it’s two years since he cooked jambalaya for me for the first time. I don’t really like the fact that our anniversary is Valentine’s Day because of the obvious cliché and the fact that it’s the day after my birthday. But we’ll never forget it I suppose. And I like to acknowledge it passing. It may be a cold, grey Tuesday in February sure, but we’ve been together two years and that makes me smile. And, of course, it means we’re having jambalaya for dinner.

4 comments

  1. Congrats on your 2 year anniversary and I hope you had a lovely birthday! x

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  2. This was such a lovely post to read. Here's to many more years together for you two!

    My husband definitely falls into the "literary" niche - we met each other at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts in 2010, but in many other personality ways we are complete opposites, so you're right: opposition do attract! x

    www.rhymeandribbons.com

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    1. Thank you!

      I think opposites make great couples - there's always more to bring to the table! x

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