That famous little saying, as with all matters of the heart, “you’ll know when you know”.
I didn’t know at first, it was an age thing I think, those boyish good looks, I had you down as 25, that’s not my style. But under that tree a week later, yeah, I knew alright. I was surer than the morning of my wedding.
Of course, it’s romantic to believe in the chemistry, in clicks, in love at first sight, but I knew, I really did, and I suppose I still do.
I’ve wrote nearly fifty posts about you, about knowing when you know. I’m a busy young woman, but I’ve wrote about you, my happy ever after, for a year and a half. I’ve even had those words inked on my skin, to mark the night this all began, as if I could ever forget a single detail of that night, maybe because I knew, but maybe because I knew I’d be doubted one day, and you would need reminding of the magic that was that night, and how I honestly believed you were my forever person.
Because you were unsure, or not ready, or whatever, please don’t doubt how deeply I felt for you or how strongly I believed in us, or how every time you showed me any affection at all I took it as a glimmer of hope that I was right, that you were my forever person, all of those things were real, for me at least.
I believed things you said and ignored knots in my tummy because my belief in us was stronger than any doubt, not because I was silly or naive, but because I honestly believed that deep down you felt the same way, and eventually it would come good, we would get our happy ending.
I may have got the wrong end of the stick at times, I may have met up with old flames when we weren’t together, trying desperately to get you out of my head, or to fill a void after we ended again, but I’ve always been honest; I wanted to be with you, more than anything in this entire world. Unfortunately, that didn’t marry up with your wants.
Moving on with other people doesn’t change those things.
I guess sometimes you knew when you knew. X