Dancing In The Rain

For as long as I could remember I’d had a dream- one day a handsome man (who looked suspiciously like Zac Efron, forgive me I was only 11 when this dream came to be) would take me on fairytale like date that would end with us dancing to the beat of our own hearts in the midst of a summer downpour. After countless marathons of Step Up, Dirty Dancing and, yes, High School Musical- I find myself often wondering when I would get my Hollywood moment with my very own Noah. I would find myself dreaming of the dance daily, wondering when I would find the one and I would get the chance to live a love worthy of a Nicholas Sparks novel. I guess I’ve always wanted a silver screen cliché.

Then you came along and instead of Noah, or any of the other dreamy characters I had fallen in and out of love with over the years, it was you I was dreaming of sharing this moment with. However I held back- not wanting to give it to you to early, afraid of wasting my one chance of a Hollywood romance on a love that wouldn’t last. I needed it all to be perfect- the situation, the timing, the partner. It wasn’t until that date in September, almost a whole year after we were first introduced- that I decided to take the plunge.

It was one of the rare days towards the end of the British summer where in our stubbornness we refuse to acknowledge the grey clouds and partake in some stereotypically summery activity or other. You had demanded to see every corner of my hometown so after a whistle-stop tour of the place I had escaped only a few years ago, I decided to take you to one of the few places that I will admit to missing purely for the view. We bought ice cream and sandwiches and used your jacket to set up an impromptu picnic overlooking the lake. We ate, laughed, kissed and fed the ducks before getting up to walk back towards the car. Until that point we had managed to stay warm and dry but it was halfway through the story of how I pushed my dad into the lake that I felt the first droplet hit my nose. Within seconds the rain was pouring but as I tried to drag you under the trees for shelter you pulled me back, refusing to move from your spot. You pulled me closer, placing your hands on my waist and started to rock us slowly, as the rain soaked our clothes and you hummed our song.   

Admittedly it wasn’t quite like the movies- with the water proof makeup, space heaters and perfect staging to make it seem Oscar worthy, our real life un-choreographed imitation was charmingly messy at best. I was shivering from the cold by the end, with makeup running down my face and you were laughably out of time thanks to your two left feet. But still, in that moment it occurred to me that I had never been so in love before because despite our flaws, I still saw our little story as even more beautiful than the story of Jack and Rose; and I knew we’d get a happier ending.

   

Let's Drink to Us

I never believed in love. I thought  it was something made up for the purpose of writing books and making films that people eventually started putting into everyday life in order to make it a little more bearable. I guess you could say it was just my own stubbornness that wouldn’t let me admit all of this to you sooner- and if you ever show this to anyone I swear I will kill you.

I knew you were the one almost straight away; even though I refused to admit it to myself at the time- I knew that in some way, you were going to be the game-changer. You know what I mean by that don’t you? I always knew that you would be the one to change my perspective of the world. Now I’m not claiming it was love at first sight- it was more like anxiety; I knew you were going to push me out of my safe little bubble that I had been living in, that’s why I avoided you for so long. I spent months after we first met keep you an arm’s length away, I think you may have even thought I disliked you, but really it was just for my own safety. I didn’t want to risk falling and then you not catching me, or changing your mind at the last second- leaving me battered and bruised at the other end. You scared the hell out of me, and I think that’s how I knew you were the one.

But slowly, very slowly- I started to notice things. When I started imaging the adventures I wanted in my future I was no longer on my own on them, it was always you by my side- with that stupid smile on your face and cracking awful jokes that could make even my icy heart melt. All I could see was that smile, or the way you had a single freckle on your left cheek, your permanently mismatched socks and that one curl in your hair that never went the same way as the rest- it was all you.  People would make comments about the two of us and as we hastily stated that we were just friends they would laugh claiming that “just friends don’t look at each other like that”.

I guess you could say it was a battle of wills, the person who admitted their feelings first lost- it’s always been a battle between the two of us and I think that’s why we work. We would both be bored by an ‘ideal’ relationship; and let’s be realistic, there is nothing ideal or traditional about the two of us. It’s the conflict that keeps our fire burning.

I can’t remember who caved first, despite our need for competition we never seem to have a clear winner, but I do remember the moment that we both said the three scariest words known to man. It was on our mini road trip- I had just turned 21 and you had never been to Disney World so we decided to spend a weekend in Vegas before driving down to International Drive for a week of magic. We had managed to reach Disney just in time for the fireworks and as I turned to see your stupid face grinning back at me as you grabbed my hand in yours, the words tumbled out in the most unromantic way imaginable. Wiping the mustard of my lip from the hotdogs we had inhaled you laughed and mumbled “I love you almost as much as I love Disney as well you idiot”. Then you kissed me and even though you tasted like ketchup, which you know I can’t stand. The moment was still annoyingly perfect- it was just like the movies we go to the cinema and watch purely to make jokes about- there was fireworks (literally) and we forgot everything but each other.

You became not only the person who came on every adventure with me, but also the person who I would cuddle and watch Netflix with. No compliment flattered me as much as the way you would look at me did- it was like you thought I was made of magic.

And now here we are, it feels like decades even though it’s only been a couple of years – I just wanted you to have a way of always knowing that I love you with every piece of my fucked up heart. A way of remembering that even though neither of us is perfect, there is nobody else that I could imagine being imperfect with.

 So I guess I will drink to that- to the perfect little mess we make.

(To clarify this is completely creative, my romantic life is still dead in the water, It was simply inspired by a mixture of exhaustion, my overly emotional brain and videos of Disney proposals and wedding speeches. Also the image isn't mine x)

Wanderlust

Ever since I was a little girl I have been obsessed with travelling. When the teacher at primary school asked us what we wanted to do when we grew up I would get some funny looks from the want to be police men and rock stars for saying 'I want to see the world' and teachers would always claim that I had misunderstood the question. The reality was that I wasn't confused or unsure, I've just always known that my career has been optional, what is definite is that what I do with my life has to somehow tie into my need to see and experience everything. Now that isn't to say that I look down on anyone who doesn't have the same need to explore that I do or the people who would rather have a relaxed life with a more consistent schedule, it's just that way of living has never really interested me. One place is just too small for the dreams I have in my head...

My Nana has always said that I get my wanderlust from her; like me, the she can't stand to be in the same place for more than a month or two, and the idea of being stuck in the same place forever makes her feel ill. She's been travelling since my mum was young and I've rarely seen her stay home for more than four months at a time, I'd be surprised if she hasn't seen every part of the world possible by the time she's 70, and even then I know she won't be satisfied. People always joke that I was born with a suitcase, I went on my first holiday when I was 6 months old and ,according to my mum,  I was the only baby who didn't make a sound on the plane! My favourite memories are of holidays, there's just something about being far away from home, and all of the problems there that makes me immeasurably happy.

But this need to see everything isn't always as happy as this. It means that my automatic response to even the smallest problem in life is to run, to run until my feet don't touch the ground and to not turn back until the problem is gone. The amount of times I've gone as far as to look for a plane ticket to nowhere is unreal! It means that when I'm home, I never quite feel right, like I'm trapped. Home isn't home to me anymore, I feel more out of place here than I do in a country where I can't even speak the common tongue.  I guess I just wasn't born for life in one corner, the whole world is my home.

For as long as I've understood the options I have for my future, I've known that the first chance I have I'm going to be running away as far as I can and staying there until I'm dragged home by some commitment or other. I've been counting down the days until then for as long as I can remember, with the promise that I will see as much of the world as possible in that short space of time. I want to see the world, experience other cultures and help as many people as I can along the way.

Whether it's backpacking around Thailand, road-tripping through America or building orphanages in Africa; I just want to leave my mark on the world, and learn some things along the way...