circumstances wouldn’t allow that. I didn’t need those barriers anymore, didn’t need a safety net. Lauren and I weren’t out to hurt each other.
We’d been pretty pissed on our first date, so it was different seeing each other sober at the beginning. Alcohol loosens inhibitions. I’d been on myriad dates during university, and the dating game felt like a perpetual hamster wheel in which I got bashed about and inadvertently shit all over myself. There was no girl like Lisa, no girl I could feel comfortable with. I’d made a lot of mistakes, spent most dates talking about myself or my ex, without realizing that that didn’t go down well with the opposite sex. By the time I met Lauren, I was a scholar when it came to the wheel. All those pointless unromantic meals and days out with girls I’d compared to Lisa had paid off. All those awkward moments, the constant feeling of dejection, had prepared me. I maintain that if we’d met a few months before, when I was an amateur dater still moping over my ex, nothing would have happened between us. She’d have dropped me like all the other girls had, left me stammering away like the Frank Spencer of dating dexterity I once was. Ripeness is everything.
Lauren and I usually people watched, chatted about the other diners sitting around us, and imagined their life stories. That got us through the inevitable awkward silences that come when you’re first getting to know someone. But those silences became less frequent, and it wasn’t long until we felt totally relaxed in each other’s company, to the extent that we adopted cute nicknames and spoke to each other in that mushy language (similar to baby talk) that loved up couples use. It’s funny looking back: I used to get so nervous waiting for her to arrive. I’d stand next to these bronze statues of an immigrant couple in Cardiff Bay, overlooking the water, bright lights twinkling in the distance, traveling through the darkness. And I’d be shitting myself. What if the date didn’t go well? Yeah sure, what’s the worst that can happen blah blah, but we’ve all seen those Dr Pepper adverts. What if we didn’t really have anything in common? All those thoughts I’d spent on her would be wasted. Another false dawn, hope built on sand. What if she didn’t even come? I’d check my phone. Was she going to text, tell me she was going to be late? It would drive me wild when she didn’t reply to a text straight away, but she wasn’t like other girls. I couldn’t stand it when girls played games when it came to texting back. If a girl pretended to be aloof it wouldn’t hook me in at all. I just wouldn’t bother. But Lauren always messaged me back once she got the opportunity. She knew she had me hooked from the start.
I believe there’s someone out there for everyone. Sometimes, a relationship isn’t meant to last. But eventually the right person comes along. Each relationship is a steppingstone, another lesson leading us up the garden path and towards the right partner. At times we linger on a certain stone, often for too long. The lessons aren’t always obvious, and through the tears and heartbreak it’s hard to discern any good. Some people endure more lessons than others. But Lauren and I knew we were meant to be together, even at that young age. Everything fitted into place, like the final couplet of a sonnet, or the last touch to a canvas.
Life had never been so untroubled. Michael and I joined a rugby team, but we were always careful not to bruise our faces, in case it compromised our theatrical roles! We made more progress with the acting lark. We’d played decent roles on stage, albeit in amateur plays, since joining the actor’s union, and did clothes modeling for catalogues, which made Michael’s ego even bigger. We were sure people in the business would eventually stand up and take notice of
We’d been pretty pissed on our first date, so it was different seeing each other sober at the beginning. Alcohol loosens inhibitions. I’d been on myriad dates during university, and the dating game felt like a perpetual hamster wheel in which I got bashed about and inadvertently shit all over myself. There was no girl like Lisa, no girl I could feel comfortable with. I’d made a lot of mistakes, spent most dates talking about myself or my ex, without realizing that that didn’t go down well with the opposite sex. By the time I met Lauren, I was a scholar when it came to the wheel. All those pointless unromantic meals and days out with girls I’d compared to Lisa had paid off. All those awkward moments, the constant feeling of dejection, had prepared me. I maintain that if we’d met a few months before, when I was an amateur dater still moping over my ex, nothing would have happened between us. She’d have dropped me like all the other girls had, left me stammering away like the Frank Spencer of dating dexterity I once was. Ripeness is everything.
Lauren and I usually people watched, chatted about the other diners sitting around us, and imagined their life stories. That got us through the inevitable awkward silences that come when you’re first getting to know someone. But those silences became less frequent, and it wasn’t long until we felt totally relaxed in each other’s company, to the extent that we adopted cute nicknames and spoke to each other in that mushy language (similar to baby talk) that loved up couples use. It’s funny looking back: I used to get so nervous waiting for her to arrive. I’d stand next to these bronze statues of an immigrant couple in Cardiff Bay, overlooking the water, bright lights twinkling in the distance, traveling through the darkness. And I’d be shitting myself. What if the date didn’t go well? Yeah sure, what’s the worst that can happen blah blah, but we’ve all seen those Dr Pepper adverts. What if we didn’t really have anything in common? All those thoughts I’d spent on her would be wasted. Another false dawn, hope built on sand. What if she didn’t even come? I’d check my phone. Was she going to text, tell me she was going to be late? It would drive me wild when she didn’t reply to a text straight away, but she wasn’t like other girls. I couldn’t stand it when girls played games when it came to texting back. If a girl pretended to be aloof it wouldn’t hook me in at all. I just wouldn’t bother. But Lauren always messaged me back once she got the opportunity. She knew she had me hooked from the start.
I believe there’s someone out there for everyone. Sometimes, a relationship isn’t meant to last. But eventually the right person comes along. Each relationship is a steppingstone, another lesson leading us up the garden path and towards the right partner. At times we linger on a certain stone, often for too long. The lessons aren’t always obvious, and through the tears and heartbreak it’s hard to discern any good. Some people endure more lessons than others. But Lauren and I knew we were meant to be together, even at that young age. Everything fitted into place, like the final couplet of a sonnet, or the last touch to a canvas.
Life had never been so untroubled. Michael and I joined a rugby team, but we were always careful not to bruise our faces, in case it compromised our theatrical roles! We made more progress with the acting lark. We’d played decent roles on stage, albeit in amateur plays, since joining the actor’s union, and did clothes modeling for catalogues, which made Michael’s ego even bigger. We were sure people in the business would eventually stand up and take notice of
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