Monday, 29 August 2016

My Relationship: 12 Months On

relationship reflection personal lifestyle post anniversary

I don't think I've ever met anyone that infuriates the crap out of me more than Jack does. I mean, okay, let me rephrase. I don't think I've ever met anyone that infuriates the crap out of me more than Jack does, and I've continued to like them.

August 7th is what Jack and I call our official anniversary, but we actually entered a relationship a week or two before that. Summer of 2015, I updated my profile picture on Facebook which was a selfy in which I was wearing bright purple lipstick (Depravity Velvet Lacquer by Make-Up Revolution, FYI!). It wasn't long before there was a number of likes and comments. Scrolling through them, I read a lot of variations of some colleagues and friends I hadn't seen in a while telling me I looked great and that they hoped I was well, and right near the bottom was a comment from Jack saying, "I love your lipstick btw, it's so, like in your face! x". Jack had worked at Sainsbury's long before I did, and he always made the effort of saying hi to me and asking how I was whenever he saw me - which was often a lot. As a member of the cafe department, and me a cashier, he was always in eyesight but I never really paid him much attention. He was just the guy with the Superman belt buckle. It took me ages to learn his name in the first place! 

I looked at the comment and noticed that another colleague had liked it, and, for some reason, I thought that this comment was actually mocking me. Don't ask me why, just years of being bitched at for looking a bit "different" or liking "different" things I suppose? I messaged Jack privately asking about it at 2AM and he seemed genuinely baffled by my message. This simple message where I asked if his comment was genuine (which, looking back on it, I'm pretty sure was an excuse to start a conversation), was what sparked our back-and-forth conversation for the next week.

After that week, Jack had some time off work coming up, and I was still signed off with PTSD, so we finally arranged a day to hang out. When he turned up parked outside my house in a BMW, I was hugely impressed - I totes expected him to turn up in a pitiful boy-racer when he said he drove, haha! We went here and there, and eventually ended up at the Royal Observatory. We were gonna park up and go for a walk, but it ended up beginning to rain so we went back to the car and sat there and just chatted. We chatted for about 8 hours about literally anything and everything, from politics to my PTSD and to his own history as well as our romantic blunders, me curled up in the passenger seat of his car, him - long legged and gangly - sitting awkwardly, obviously a bit cramped, in the driver's seat. We had the radio on the whole time without even thinking about it because it was down so low. It wasn't until it reached midnight and the radio cut out that we realised his battery had died! Jack phoned the AA, absolutely mortified the entire time. It was kinda adorable. And then, of course, the AA guy didn't show up until about half one in the morning. We chatted until then, and then once the guy came and everything was sorted, Jack drove me home (still embarrassed, haha, bless him).

So, that's kinda how it all started. On his week off we hung out pretty much every day, although it wasn't until I got home from Greece a few weeks later that we called it official by putting it on Facebook, haha.

In our little over a year together, I've learned that Jack is the most infuriating person. He's always three hours late; he only tidies up after himself 40% of the time; he has twenty alarms that go off every five minutes every morning before work; he eats the entire contents of his kitchen and mine and doesn't put on a pound; and he works far too much (I'm rather biased though). But no matter how mad I get, no matter what strop levels I reach, it pretty much all goes out the window when he turns up on my doorstep. Sometimes this is because he's brought me a bar of whatever chocolate I've been craving, but mostly it's just cos he's my favourite and life would be a little more lame without him.

It's a cliché but I feel like I see why it didn't work out with anyone else before him - nobody has ever been able to handle my shit like he does. To paraphrase my mother, I need a mature, older man to man-handle my strong personality. Haha! There's a good handful of things we don't agree on, but I know whatever I choose to do, he will support me, and I'd like to think he knows I am the same way with him, even when I am whinging that he works too much.

More often than not, I'm not a sentimental person. I'm not soppy. I'm not a hopeless romantic. But I'm a bit pathetically sentimental about Jack. I've kept the tags he put on my Christmas presents last year, kept the birthday and Valentine's cards. I won't burn my Fresh Cut Roses candle he bought me (although partly that's because I use it so often as a blog photo prop, lol), and whilst I don't actually like Iron Man, I love my Pop! Iron Man bobble head (sadly Jack couldn't get a hold of the Captain America one). I like the soppy stuff he says to me and I like when he turns up fifteen minutes early for our date night wearing my favourite of his aftershaves, clean shaven and with his hair styled how I particularly like it.

So, what have I learned about Jack this past year? That he is a man with undying patience. That he's a generous person, be it with his food, his Sky Box memory (I didn't mean to record two seasons of Melissa & Joey on top of NCIS and Tattoo Fixers!), or with his affection. That he is a snuggly, cuddly kind of guy which I'd never have pegged him for had we not started dating. That he always means well, even when he's pissed me off. That he will show an interest in things he doesn't all that much care about, just cos it's important to me and, by that token, doesn't mind watching TV shows he's not that interested in (although I've totes made him a crime-drama fiend). That he knows to bring me chocolate when I'm dying from period cramps. That he wears his socks inside out most of the time.  That he makes a pretty big effort with my family, even though I have never once asked him to. That he makes a great cup of tea. That he's kind of a sort of crazy cool person and I feel rather spoilt that someone so awesome has to deal with my shit 90% of the week.

Besides. If being bought the NCIS box set isn't a sure sign that it's meant to be, what is?


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