Wednesday, 9 November 2011
As promised, the story of Mr 71-miles-and-409-days.
Once upon a time, during a sausage and bbq sauce filled trip to visit one of my gorgeous girly friends at University last September, I met a man. Believe me, meeting a man was the last thing on my mind, but after losing my friends in a ridiculously busy nightclub, and having spent about 9 minutes sat at a table completely alone, looking like the UK's biggest loser, the handsome guy that approached me was very welcome company.
Despite being instantly attracted to his exquisite looking face and dark hair, I never expected that this guy would go on to become one of my favourite human beings to have ever walked the earth (possibly even above Ryan Reynolds, and William Shakespeare). After all, judging by previous experience, nightclubs aren't always the best place to make new friends. Guys that come over to chat usually tend to offer me a cheap drink, mumble about their night, and then attempt to dry hump me on the dance floor. In my books, this really doesn't fill me with desire to spend more than twelve minutes with them, and I make some kind of bladder control related excuse, pull my most scary face, and hide out in the ladies.
However, things were different with Mr 71 miles. There wasn't just a little spark, there were full blown fireworks (wow, I sound like a cheesy dating show...) Before I knew it, we were telling each other pretty much everything about our lives, and chilling out in the corner, contemplating the universe. And he kissed me, and he said he could kiss me for hours, and then we continued contemplating the universe over a bag of cheesy chips. While it all sounds a little bit of a mess, and not the classiest of first meetings, I can assure you that we were only mildly tipsy, and at no point did either of us slur, vomit, or pass out. Halle-lujah!
Myself and Mr 71 miles have stayed in touch ever since. There probably hasn't been a fortnight over the past 409 days where we haven't emailed, texted, or phoned each other up to ramble absolute rubbish to each other for 10 minutes. I went back to see him a couple of times towards the end of last year, and promised him I'd come back this year. Due to boyfriends, work, uni, travelling (I swear he spends about 80% of his time in other Countries), and 71 miles, I didn't get the chance to go back until last week.
As I waited at the train station where we were meeting, I was half expecting my heart to fly out of my chest, make a juicy red mess of the station walls, and catapult violently back into my dry mouth. You'll be pleased to hear however, that my heart refrained from doing this, and instead, as Mr (oh-so-even-more-deliciously-handsome-than-I-remember) 71 miles walked around the corner and appeared in front of me, I managed to say hello like a normal human being, and threw my jittery arms around him without too much obvious hyperventilation.
Two minutes later, I realised that I'd been twitching with nerves for 6 hours for absolutely no reason what so ever. Nothing had changed. We went out for lunch, sipped on beer, and complained that there was no bbq sauce available for our chips. We talked, and laughed, and ate, and talked a bit more, about absolutely everything. I told him I'd missed him, and he told me he'd missed me too, and we decided that we'd been silly to leave it for so long.
Once I'd been to the ladies room and tried to make myself look less like Hagrid (I'd woken up late, and hadn't had quite enough time to tame the frizz...), we headed back to the house of Mr 71 miles, and chilled out for the rest of the afternoon. After I decided it would be quite hysterical to play a terrible rendition of 'Kumbaya' on his guitar (I'm pretty sure I was slightly more amused at this than he was...), he gave me 'the look', and leaned in for that kiss I'd been thinking about since the last time I'd seen him. As far as perfect moments go, that one would definitely make the top ten. I could quite easily kiss Mr 71 miles for a week. (Only kissing him for a week would be a pretty hard feat, because seeing each other is about as rare as me finding Dita Von Teese shaving her legs in my back garden. Plus, I'd get hungry.)
My best friend is insistent that Mr 71 miles is the man that'll walk me down the aisle some day. After all, every time I've returned from seeing him, I've insisted that no man could ever be more perfect, and proceeded to grin like a cheshire cat. And this time was certainly no different. In fact, I think I jokily exclaimed 'I love him!' at the end of every single sentence, and sent my best friend's ears into a coma.
While some of my friends believe that a long distance relationship is the best way to deal with the situation, I don't see that there's anything that needs to be dealt with, and am a firm believer that a relationship with a man I'm lucky to see twice a year, is most definitely not for me. And whilst I completely believe that the story with Mr 71 miles is far from over, it hasn't really begun either, not properly.
I hate the distance (let's be honest, if he lived within a 5 mile radius, I'd probably be singing 'Kumbaya' to him right now), but guess what I love the most about the situation too?
The fact that we lead completely separate lives makes spending time together feel that little more exciting, as it always feels like a bit of an adventure! And the fact that a future together has never been an option means that's it's always just about 'now' with us. Once the day's over, the feelings are genuinely laid to rest, and we're just as happy with that as we are when we're chilling with our bbq sauceless chips. It's perfect, and at this time in my life, I wouldn't change a single thing about it. (We'll see how I feel about that when he potentially becomes Mr 11,000 miles and starts his life in another country in a few years time...!)
I can't tell you how happy I am that I lost my friends and looked like the UK's biggest loser for 9 long minutes, on that ever-so-fateful night. If I'd met this exquisitely handsome man in my own hometown, I'd probably have taken him hostage and be in prison by now. Instead, I've developed a fantastic, half-romantic friendship with a genuinely incredible guy, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm a very lucky girl to even know him at all.
I'll end this by saying thank you to Mr 71 miles for not mumbling or attempting to dry hump me. Having to hide out in the ladies after my 9 minutes of shame would quite possibly have made me cry. And I'll be back soon, I promise.
Have any of you girls ever had any distant flames?! Or long distant relationships?
I hope you're all well. Thank you so much for your comments, emails, and general loveliness. xXx