And They Call It Puppy Love (Part 2)

The relationship I had with J was like a fairytale, I don’t mean we had seven dwarfs or that I was rescued from a tall tower, I mean in that it was perfect, maybe to perfect. We rarely shared a bad word, we had everything in common and we just loved being together. We would lie on my bed for hours just listening to music, we didn’t need to speak we were so comfortable in each others company that words were not always needed.

As the weeks and months went on our relationship grew more and more and we spent every waking minute together to the point where we were inseparable. We did everything together and when we weren’t together I missed him terribly. I never thought you could love someone as much as I loved him.

The only problem we ever really had was his damned wife. Even though she had left him she was still incredibly close to his parents and brother and often spent the weekends at their house, he was back living there at the time. Well we didn’t get on one bit. I disliked her being there and she was not ok with the whole ‘my husbands now a bender’ business. Although we never actually fell out, we barely tolerated each other. Looking back now I was jealous of her and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I had left Him because he was unsure of his sexuality and his inability to not kiss a girl for five minutes, now I was in a serious relationship with a man who was married to one. I had serious trust issues anyway so this was never gonna be easy.

I have no problem admitting here that I was neurotic. I had been through the mill with Him and I was scared that I would go through it all again. I loved J so much and I was scared of losing him to the point where I needed to know where he was every minute of the day. I can now see why this would cause us problems but at the time I just thought it was normal.

After about six months we were driving around doing a bit of shopping when we past some new build houses in Wolverhampton. As an estate agent I had an unhealthy obsession about looking around show homes so we stopped to have a look. We walked out three hours later having reserved one.

Again, in retrospect it was too soon but at the time it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

We moved in on my twenty second birthday, we had been together ten months, and I couldn’t be happier. It was a modest three bed terrace but I loved it and it was ours. I relished the fact that we could shut the door on the world and all that was left was the two of us in our little palace.

We never had a penny to scratch our arses with, we lived a lot of the time on beans on toast and pay day could never come quick enough but I was happy, I didn’t need money as long as I had him that’s all that mattered.

A few months later he got a promotion at work which involved him going abroad on trips, only ever for a few days but I still didn’t like it and I played my face up as much as I was allowed, which was a lot to be fair, he allowed me my diva moments which was one the things I loved about him. In the end of course he went, he had no real choice, and I now know that I should never have put that pressure on him, it was selfish and stupid of me.

He called me every day without fail and text me as often as he could and the three days flew by so when he had to go again three months later I didn’t make a fuss I knew I had nothing to worry about.

It’s ironic that the minute I let the reigns off a little was when the shit hit the fan.

TO BE CONTINUED…