First Year:
Back in the days when we didn't realise that it was okay to leave your washing alone in the laundry room while it was washing or drying, we used to sit on the driers (ahem, I mean, on the plastic chairs provided) and wait for a load of washing to finish first cleaning itself and then drying itself in the gigantic barrels of heat we transferred them into.
You could sit in there alone, with your headphones on, and a book in your hands. Or you could end up sat with another person you'd never met, chatting away about nothing in particular.
First year is amazing like that.
Look. There I am; being a good girl and washing my clothes, reading my book, not listening to music because I don't have an MP3 player yet. My big jumper swamps me, keeping me warm. It's the first few weeks of term, and I'm bored but overcoming that by devouring the novels we're studying. I turn a page and glance across at the timer on my washing. 11 mins.
Enter cute boy: carrying a bag full of laundry.
His hair is dark and curly, his eyes are blue behind rectangular glasses, the hoody he wears looks well loved (read worn in going on worn out) and there's something about him that makes me want to smile. I try not to look at him - people like privacy if they're washing their underwear or 'delicates' - and feel a slight colour creep up my neck and spread across my cheeks.
He sets the washer going and hops up onto the tumble driers. Ready for the long long wait of washing, rinsing, spinning, drying. His height and slim build make me think he'll be clumsy - like all the boys I know back home - but he's not. There's nearly a touch of grace in the way he jumps playfully onto the driers and gets comfy.
I glance up from my book. I'm still being a good girl, sitting in the plastic chair. I smile...
I bump into him a few times - often in the lift or in the laundry room. I'm too shy to ask his name; but we chit-chat, small talk. I go to my room thinking hard about my boyfriend.
After the devastation of November 2009, my boyfriend returns with me to University. I'm not good at being on my own. Still a bit shakey on the inside. He's proposed. I've said yes. My fiance helps me carry the washing down and sits with me for the long hall. Wash, rinse, spin, dry.
The boy with the curly hair is there again. It's getting to be a little joke of ours that we always do our washing together. If it were true, we'd hardly ever wash our clothes in fairness.
My fiance talks with him. We all laugh. We comment on the size of the driers. He sits in and I take a photo - his hood hiding his face out of embarrassment.
I agree to go to the Chinese new year festival with a friend. We're the only English people approaching it. We subtly change course and end up at an open party in the Student Union. I call the fiance and tell him to come.
The cute boy with the curly hair turns up. We finally learn his name, and that he's as bad as me on the Wii. He and I both offer to stay and tidy up - our friends either want to help too or feel obliged to stay. We all go for drinks with one of the organisers. The first night out I've had since my one trip to the pub in freshers week.
I start bumping into him more often. He comes over to mine for the first time and we play with a glow in the dark Frisbee. We start talking lots. We meet up more and more often. We play games. We stay up late all the time just talking. We chase each other up (or down) stairs tickling each other until neither of us can breath from the laughter. I try to help him with his girl problems. I sit behind him in the big chair by his desk and tickle him gently, or play with his hair, or just wrap my arms around him while he types and we talk. He agrees to help with Oxjam. He helps me with my boy problems. I meet his best friend from his course, she's awesome.
In essence, we become best friends, and I love him.
I'm there for him when things go wrong in his love life. I stand shocked in the door way when he turns up with his hair cut off. I argue with him when he upsets his best friend. I stick up for him when people say rude things about him.
He helps me through the hard times with my fiance. He treats me with respect even when I've forgotten what that means. He looks out for me. He makes me laugh when I'm sad. He goes shopping with me. He talks to me all the time.
Second year:
He meets me at my new halls of residence with roses and chocolates. I nearly squish them while hugging him as hard as I can. He helps me unpack, and meets the vast majority of my family. He stands in line with me and the ex-fiance while said ex tries to get housing sorted.
The list of things he does for me, with me, is extensive and insane.
We go to salsa. We get pretty good.
We go for a walk and get drenched. We curl up in towels and play video games. We perform seances and protection spells together. We watch so many films it's crazy. I sit in his room and we do work together. I end up learning his essay off by heart with him.
He's my best friend, he helps me through everything, he's always there: I love him.
Third year:
Life explodes in a ball of friends falling out with each other, and mistakes upon mistakes upon misunderstandings make everything so tense.
We argue. We make up. We nearly fall apart.
He gets frustrated with me. I get upset with him. We argue... then cuddle. We go to everything Demon TV under the sun. We slowly stop going because of the social issues.
We start blogging.
We start being more of a 'we' than a 'him and me' - especially to other people.
This year something's not been right, and it's hard, and I don't like it - but I still love him.
Never let things get in the way of your friendships.
They're some of the most important things in the world.
Love openly and often - try not to get hurt.
Blessed Be xx
Back in the days when we didn't realise that it was okay to leave your washing alone in the laundry room while it was washing or drying, we used to sit on the driers (ahem, I mean, on the plastic chairs provided) and wait for a load of washing to finish first cleaning itself and then drying itself in the gigantic barrels of heat we transferred them into.
You could sit in there alone, with your headphones on, and a book in your hands. Or you could end up sat with another person you'd never met, chatting away about nothing in particular.
First year is amazing like that.
Look. There I am; being a good girl and washing my clothes, reading my book, not listening to music because I don't have an MP3 player yet. My big jumper swamps me, keeping me warm. It's the first few weeks of term, and I'm bored but overcoming that by devouring the novels we're studying. I turn a page and glance across at the timer on my washing. 11 mins.
Enter cute boy: carrying a bag full of laundry.
His hair is dark and curly, his eyes are blue behind rectangular glasses, the hoody he wears looks well loved (read worn in going on worn out) and there's something about him that makes me want to smile. I try not to look at him - people like privacy if they're washing their underwear or 'delicates' - and feel a slight colour creep up my neck and spread across my cheeks.
He sets the washer going and hops up onto the tumble driers. Ready for the long long wait of washing, rinsing, spinning, drying. His height and slim build make me think he'll be clumsy - like all the boys I know back home - but he's not. There's nearly a touch of grace in the way he jumps playfully onto the driers and gets comfy.
I glance up from my book. I'm still being a good girl, sitting in the plastic chair. I smile...
I bump into him a few times - often in the lift or in the laundry room. I'm too shy to ask his name; but we chit-chat, small talk. I go to my room thinking hard about my boyfriend.
After the devastation of November 2009, my boyfriend returns with me to University. I'm not good at being on my own. Still a bit shakey on the inside. He's proposed. I've said yes. My fiance helps me carry the washing down and sits with me for the long hall. Wash, rinse, spin, dry.
The boy with the curly hair is there again. It's getting to be a little joke of ours that we always do our washing together. If it were true, we'd hardly ever wash our clothes in fairness.
My fiance talks with him. We all laugh. We comment on the size of the driers. He sits in and I take a photo - his hood hiding his face out of embarrassment.
I agree to go to the Chinese new year festival with a friend. We're the only English people approaching it. We subtly change course and end up at an open party in the Student Union. I call the fiance and tell him to come.
The cute boy with the curly hair turns up. We finally learn his name, and that he's as bad as me on the Wii. He and I both offer to stay and tidy up - our friends either want to help too or feel obliged to stay. We all go for drinks with one of the organisers. The first night out I've had since my one trip to the pub in freshers week.
I start bumping into him more often. He comes over to mine for the first time and we play with a glow in the dark Frisbee. We start talking lots. We meet up more and more often. We play games. We stay up late all the time just talking. We chase each other up (or down) stairs tickling each other until neither of us can breath from the laughter. I try to help him with his girl problems. I sit behind him in the big chair by his desk and tickle him gently, or play with his hair, or just wrap my arms around him while he types and we talk. He agrees to help with Oxjam. He helps me with my boy problems. I meet his best friend from his course, she's awesome.
In essence, we become best friends, and I love him.
I'm there for him when things go wrong in his love life. I stand shocked in the door way when he turns up with his hair cut off. I argue with him when he upsets his best friend. I stick up for him when people say rude things about him.
He helps me through the hard times with my fiance. He treats me with respect even when I've forgotten what that means. He looks out for me. He makes me laugh when I'm sad. He goes shopping with me. He talks to me all the time.
Second year:
He meets me at my new halls of residence with roses and chocolates. I nearly squish them while hugging him as hard as I can. He helps me unpack, and meets the vast majority of my family. He stands in line with me and the ex-fiance while said ex tries to get housing sorted.
The list of things he does for me, with me, is extensive and insane.
We go to salsa. We get pretty good.
We go for a walk and get drenched. We curl up in towels and play video games. We perform seances and protection spells together. We watch so many films it's crazy. I sit in his room and we do work together. I end up learning his essay off by heart with him.
He's my best friend, he helps me through everything, he's always there: I love him.
Third year:
Life explodes in a ball of friends falling out with each other, and mistakes upon mistakes upon misunderstandings make everything so tense.
We argue. We make up. We nearly fall apart.
He gets frustrated with me. I get upset with him. We argue... then cuddle. We go to everything Demon TV under the sun. We slowly stop going because of the social issues.
We start blogging.
We start being more of a 'we' than a 'him and me' - especially to other people.
This year something's not been right, and it's hard, and I don't like it - but I still love him.
Never let things get in the way of your friendships.
They're some of the most important things in the world.
Love openly and often - try not to get hurt.
Blessed Be xx
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