Facebook has recently been full of status updates of people talking about it being 10 years since they went to uni. I wish I could remember the actual date but alas I wasn’t that organised (I know, unbelievable) so I just have to settle for knowing that about this time I was heading to Manchester to be a little student-head.
Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a post filled with nonsense about my first days of uni – I didn’t have an experience that was really that different to anyone else’s I’m sure. But the timing fits nicely because it neatly goes with something that I’ve been wanting to post about for a while.
For not only has it been 10 years since I went to uni. It’s been 10 years since I met The Person.
I know that some have been curious about who this person is, and some have even been detective enough to work out who he is.
For anyone who was wondering, yes you have heard of him before.
Now. Before I go on I should clear something up before the comments start. I didn’t break up with my ex for The Person, I broke up with my ex because I wasn’t happy with him and hadn’t been for some time.
Ten years ago I came to uni a little bright eyed and bushy tailed 18 year old ready to make friends. I lived in a tower block which was separated into boy’s and girl’s floors. I met another girl equally keen to make friends, and a couple of days in, we visited every floor in that tower block, introducing ourselves and suggesting that we all meet on our floor, in our kitchen, before heading out to that ubiquitous Fresher’s event, the Foam Party.
Out of that whole tower block, 5 boys turned up and from that day forward there was a nice little set up going on.
The Person and I have been in and out of contact for these long 10 years. 2nd and 3rd year passed without us really talking that much, once we were loose on the world there was the occasional e-mail, then we got closer, then we started seeing each other when I went back to do my MSc, then we broke up, but we were still in contact, still would see each other and now here we are.
Back then he was The Person that I wanted to make laugh because I wanted him to think I was cool. 10 years later, I still want to make him laugh because I want him to think I’m cool.
He is The Person that lives in all those clichés you read about love.
He is The Person that I want to be with. All the time. (Which means that it sucks kind of a lot that we only get to see each other every 3/4 weeks.)
He is The Person that I want to call whenever anything happens, big or small. (Even though he hates talking on the phone and panics for some reason that we’re not going to have anything to say each other.)
In the last post I wrote about him I referred to him as The One. I will carry on calling him The Person because I like it better but it doesn’t change the fact that at this moment, and for the past year and a bit, my heart has been very smug indeed.
Here ends the mush.