His name starts with an E, just like mine, but his is prettier. I never imagined
finding the love of my life at 20. Like, it’s a little bit too early. I thought I’d be single for a lot longer, maybe until my late 30s or sometime before
my hair turns all gray if I was lucky enough. Honestly, I've even pictured
living alone with a hundred rescued cats meowing around my dead body at 35. But well, life had other plans it seems. Somehow I met him, and now I'm living a dream.
I'd been with a couple of different men before. Most of them told me I was
difficult, and for a while I believed them because none of my past
relationships lasted longer than four and a half months. But here I am now,
six months into a relationship and I'm starting to think that maybe, just
maybe, they were all wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t me, maybe we just weren’t the
right match.
And as strange as it might sound to some who are more familiar with the old-fashioned dating style: where the man asks the woman out first, I was actually the one who took the first move (he still won't admit that BTW). He checked all the boxes my exes could never come close to. He has everything I wanted in a man, so there is absolutely no way I was gonna let him slip through my fingers that easily.
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I still can't believe how lucky I am to be with the most beautiful soul I'd ever known, though. The way he made me feel seen, secure and loved in a way I'd never been before. He slowly washed away my fears of starting a family and have kids. If our love story was a movie, one of Martin Garrix’s songs that I put on the tittle of this post, would definitely be played over the end credits.
