Inspired by Chick Flicks

Funny isn’t it, how we view sex and romance, the ideal happy ever after story.

Today I’ve been watching chick flicks and shedding a few tears, which is of course what we’re supposed to do over soppy romantic films.

I’ve never been married, I’ve been engaged twice, although after accepting the first proposal I avoided naming the day because I knew it didn’t feel right and in the end, I made the right choice.

The second time, we had the date. We had a venue. We had two weddings in mind.

A Hand Fasting where Sophia wore the dress and decorated a beautiful barn and the way it looked was to be a surprise for me on the day.

There was to be a second wedding for my family at a register office and this time would be Mark at the official ceremony.

I never tired of looking at my partner, didn’t matter to me if it was Mark or Sophia I was with, inside the essence was the same person, it was just the exterior presented to the rest of the world that differed. Every day, every minute, was special, it mattered and we couldn’t bear to be apart for even a few hours. It was Mark who felt the need for us to marry, to commit that way.

Getting married didn’t really seem that important to me. I think over the years I’d gone through the various stages of expecting it would happen, it was likely to happen, it was still possible to, it was never going to happen for me.

It wasn’t the princess for a day experience I’d wanted, it was the commitment, the fact that for once in my life someone loved me enough to promise to always be there for me, because they wanted to be.

When I locked the collar around Mark’s neck within days of meeting, I knew I’d found my soulmate. Everything about us just meshed perfectly, although of course neither of us were perfect people.

Every day our love grew stronger, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else. It wasn’t easy. I grieved for Mark as Sophia took over. I watched the man I met and fell in love with at first sight fade gradually away. It was like a slow death, the only comparison I can make really. We talked all the time, communication was key. I loved Mark, but I also loved the butterfly that was slowly emerging from its chrysalis, Sophia.

When Sophia died, there was nothing to replace her. No gradual fading away. She was ripped away from me in a brutal way that left me so devastated I didn’t know how I would ever be able to continue.

The first few weeks were filled with practicality. Arranging the funeral, finding a place to live, breathing. Friends brought me meals, flowers, shoulders to cry on. We consoled each other with stories of her exploits, the type of person she was and that Mark had been.

People kept telling me time heals. I said it then and I say it now two and a half years on, no it doesn’t. What we do is find a way to go on, to live. I still have a huge gaping wound that will never heal and never will.

It’s a bumpy ride, I’ve made choices that were right for me at the time, they didn’t work out, but I never expected them to. That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t hurt, because I was.

I’m not the same person I was 4 years ago. Meeting Mark changed me and changed my life, for the better.

I’m not the same person I was 3 years ago. That me was smashed to smithereens at 4.40pm on the 9th of November 2009.

Since then I’ve pieced myself back together, into some semblance of a human being. Emotionally I’m often rather fragile. Small things hurt me that in the past I’d be able to easily shrug off.

I’ve never given up, although I have felt like it at times. I’ve continued on the path laid out for me, making choices, learning, growing, never forgetting.

And now, now I have someone in my life who loves me wholeheartedly. Someone I can trust, love, treasure, caress, beat, kiss within an inch of his life. Someone who without being asked, stepped up to the mark when it mattered and told me how he felt at a turning point in both our lives.

Naturally he’s a shy person, he wasn’t looking for a relationship because of his current circumstances, but he recognised he was at a crossroads, beside me. We could easily have gone down separate paths that day, instead he took me by the hand and led us down a path together, to continue a journey that we’d started by accident almost. Some may call it fate.

He’s done the marriage thing and doesn’t feel any urge to do it again. So I know that’s not going to be on the cards for us. I did feel a pang of regret, but then my next thought was…………would I rather one special day where everyone gets to eat and drink at our expense while we make a public commitment to be together. Or do I look into his eyes every day and see the love he has for me, hear the words he tells me every single day, over and over in a way I doubt I’ll ever tire of.

I know which I’d rather have.

"The most powerful sexual organ in the body is our brain, open your mind and allow your fantasies free reign, mutual pleasure between consenting adults is a wonderful thing." 

DanesWood