P wrote 'I ♥ H' on a table in salt once. TRU LUV.
I met up with an ex of mine last night, P. Do you still call someone an ex when it's been four years since they stopped being the university boyfriend you grew up with? Or do you call them a friend? Almost seven years have passed since I first met him. He was 18, I was 21 (cradle robbing harlot that I was). We were together for almost three years. Three incredibly happy years filled with South Park, wrestling obsession (him, not me), Family Guy, music that I would never have listened to given the choice (Hi Cradle of Filth, how's you?) but that I ended up developing a soft spot for, drunken nights in Nottingham, our university town, and... love. Lots of love.
But, on seeing him last night, I realised the type of love we had. He was the boy that saved me from the depths of depression. Depression caused by cancer, university failure, an awful car crash and a terrible break up with a previous boyfriend. He was my saviour, the light of my life. The one who swooped in in his baggy jeans, his dyed black hair, his lip ring, his sweet, wonderful good-hearted nature and brought me back to life. And I loved him for that. I thought I loved him more than anyone I would ever meet.
But, you know what? That love was only the tip of a big love shaped iceberg. It was only a fraction of what love can truly feel like. And, looking back, I think the devastation I felt was more because it meant that my life as I knew it was over. The end of that relationship meant that I had to grow up, make some decisions and actually make a future for myself, away from the student bubble that we'd made for ourselves. Yes, I was devastated. But so was he. We both cried and mourned and wished it could have been different. But he never let me down. Never. No matter where our lives have taken us, he's always been there in the background, a distant yet constant presence. He's one of the good ones, that boy.
Seeing P was wonderful, in so many ways. He's still sweet, wonderful and good-hearted. He's still daft and dopey and silly. And I wouldn't have him any other way. Or, for that matter, change the three years we spent together.
I'm so happy that I get to call him a friend.
