A Reflection at the Beginning

Forgive me, but I am going to talk about lovey dovey things.

Paul told me last night that I was easy going. We talked about when he asked me out, about how nervous he was. He said that he knew that if I had said no, I was the sort of person who would tell him why. That made me think... I haven't always been this way.

All of my other relationships were a flop. I always had doubts from the beginning. The first was a disaster, and I barely got out with my life. It was like trainspotting without the drugs... intense. We had our own kind of drugs, which I won't go into for the sake of respectability.Yes, it was very intense. Love/hate. Feelings so strong that they continue even today, more than three years later. The next relationship lasted three days. He wasn't for me. The third was awkward. In the fourth I was used as a tool for him to get his ex girlfriend back. Of course, I didn't find out until he'd dumped me for her. Bastard.

I always thought that it was because of me that they never worked out. Maybe I was just no good at being a girlfriend? Maybe I was too boring, or too passive?

The fourth finished back in April. After that I was too angry to think about going out with anyone else. I told myself I was better off alone for a very long time. I had to concentrate on my friends and my college work. I had to look after myself from now on, and no man was going to get the better of me. You know how it goes... all men are the same, right?

And I started going out clubbing on Thursday nights. Little did I know that I was doomed from the start.

The idea was that I could tag along with some party goers and become like them. Spontaneous, fun. I had no idea what I was doing. But you know, it all worked out for me in the end.

I went every week after that. I loved it. I loved the liberation of it all, after being held back by relationships for so long. I didn't have to think about making good impressons or looking nice for other people... I was on my own now and all I had to do was have the best time I could, disregarding all others. I've changed since then, for the better I think.

My friends and I have become closer, because I had more time for them rather than worrying about love. I guess you could say I felt like a free spirit. And that made me feel more secure. They'd do anything for me. I never had that kind of relationship with my friends at school, for one reason and another.

I'm more spontaneous - a result of my single life adventures to the club and many summer schools away with people I've never met. And my confidence allows me to express myself to others in a way that I never imagined I could before. It may sound pathetic to anyone else, but I am who I am because I worked hard to get my confidence up. Imagine to yourself a plain looking girl in a school tie and black V-neck jumper, bookish, getting laughed at by people in the corridor, getting pencils (or snowballs, in winter) thrown off her. Putting on a brave face when everyone, including her own friends, turned their back on her. Believe me, it was as lonely as it sounds. So I guess when I got into a relationship, I clung on for dear life and smothered my lover. They never put up with me long enough.

Now, after building up my self-esteem to a higher level than the people who bullied me in the first place (I had determination on my side) I found I no longer needed anyone else to comfort me. I wasn't the girl everyone thought I was... I wasn't arrogant, or self-controlling, or pathetic, or cruel, or a bad person. I didn't have to believe what they had said about me any more. Because now I had real friends, who really loved me, and their opinion far outweighed that of the school bullies.

So here I am, a new person. Loveable, if I may say so myself. Sarcastic, because it runs in the family. Happy, because I achieved what I wanted, though it took months and years of hard work.

And can you imagine me one night, at the club that I am thankful to for giving me my life back? Paul walks over. Let me tell you about Paul.

I met him on the first night that I went out. A friend from college, Laura, had asked her boyfriend to take me to the club as I didn't know where it was. And Paul was her boyfriend's mate. I never looked twice at him.

It was his first night out too. We went to the club and sat down and Paul bought me my first drink. He tried talking to me and I wasn't impressed. I thought he liked me, but I can't remember if he admitted it or whether I guessed. I told him I was gay so he might get the picture that I wasn't interested. I've changed since then, see? I wouldn't have told him why I refused him. Back then, I wanted my singledom.

Several weeks later my Mam came in from work. She knocked on my bedroom door; I was doing homework.

"Kayleigh?"

"Yeah?"

"You know this guy you met at Ku once? Paul?"

I frowned. I had never told her about Paul. He was just insignificant. I had never mentioned him to anyone.

"Mmhmm."

"Well he works at ASDA."

Yes my Mam works there too. She had listened to him telling everyone about some girl with my name who he met one Thursday night. My Mam got curious and asked him what she looked like. She fitted my description. She told him it was her daughter. So all the time that Paul had been going on about me, and my Mam had been bragging about me (as she does), they had no idea they were talking about the same person. Weird, isn't it?

I sort of nodded nonchalantly and said, "Oh, does he?"

But apparently he still fancied me. And this workmate Mark saw me in ASDA and agreed I was nice looking.

Six months later and I miss several weeks of clubbing in a row. Mark and Paul had started going out every week, and kept asking my Mam if I was going to go out next week, or perhaps the week after that? No, I was in Cambridge one week and Oxford the next, and at Durham the week after that. I didn't have time to go out. My Mam seemed to think they were holding a competition over who could pull me first.

Anyway, I did eventually go back out, when the college term started again and I had no more trips away planned. It was a night like any other. The same things usually happened - I had drinks, I danced, I had a good time and got a taxi home with Helen. My sister had started going out as well. It was her first night at Ku and I got told to look after her.

It was near the end of the night. I was drunker than usual because people happened to buy me more drinks. Helen and Sarah and I started the night with a vodka shot, Gibbo bought everyone a drink, and then there was Paul, buying us all a drink, and I can't remember, but did he buy us two or three? And I was leaving soon - Helen had phoned for the taxi.

That was the moment that it happened. Paul went to kiss me goodbye - on the cheek. I still don't know why I did it, but I turned my head and it turned into a passionate kiss instead. Ten minutes later, I was stumbling down the stairs and heading for the taxi with Helen and Sarah, Paul's number safely stored in my mobile, and mine stored in his. I was questioning myself - did I really like Paul?

I got home and remembered that Paul would have the opportunity to tell my Mam all about my escapades when he went to work, so I texted him: "Don't tell my Mam!" Then I threw up.

So the next day, more hungover than I had ever felt before, I thought about Paul. My Mam continued to prattle on about him and Mark, so I assumed he had stuck to his word and kept it a secret. And when people asked me if I'd had a good night, I thought about Paul and told them yes.

He texted me a week later and asked if I wanted to go clubbing in Newcastle on Saturday. I tried to reply with a 'no' but I found out I had no credit left. He would just have to assume that no was my answer if I didn't reply. At college, Laura asked me if I wanted to go out on Saturday with them. Again I said no. I told my Mam about it and she assumed that I had made up my mind to go. She went to work and told Mark and Paul that they'd have to look after me, and buy me drinks, and bring me home. And as she had assumed that I was going, I decided to go.

Paul was already drunk when Laura and Mark and myself met him and Layla at the metro station. He bought me a Skittles, and we moved on, and he bought me another drink, and another, and another. And in between clubs he lent me his hoody, and when we were queueing he put his arm round me so I might not get ID-ed. It was around the middle of the night when we started kissing again. I think he was sruprised, having thought that Thursday night was a one-off and that it was just the beer goggles working. But here I was, not exactly drunk, speaking coherently and telling him I did like him after all. The last hour of that night was spent cuddled up on the sofa in Legends. ...Six months down the line, he had finally pulled me. Or had I pulled him? Hard to say, really.

The next day we were at an ASDA charity party. That's how my Mam found out we were a item, and she was over the moon about it. The next Thursday we were out at our usual hangout and he asked me out officially. On Saturday we went to the pictures. The next week I was at Villiers Park. Since I got back, things have been going just as well. Time is spent with him at home: we chat about music, and our friends, and college, and about us. Just getting to know each other. I have never felt this comfortable in a relationship before. He says I'm fun and easy going, and I can laugh at his boy talk jokes, the ones a girl never usually hears because they're the crude stories that are told between boys. Yesterday we went for a meal together, and it was so relaxed and easy.

I'm glad now that I have built up my confidence to be who I am. Even in a relationship, I still feel like an individual. And just think, when I first met him those six months ago, before I had matured to where I am now, my fate had already been set up. I love Paul. I've never been happier.

Note: I am extremely sorry for the sappiness of this entry, and also for its length.