MY FIVE BOYFRIENDS

MY FIVE BOYFRIENDS

LUKE.

The heavy metal kid when I was 15 who got me into Pantera. He was chubby, a year younger than me which I wouldn't admit in school and he played drums which I could sit and watch all day. He broke up with me by quoting Pantera lyrics from “This Love” and after we broke up, he lost loads of weight, shaved his head and started playing “Rap drums” the day I find out what “Rap drums” are, is when I can't start sleeping soundly again...

FASH.

A whirlwind catastrophe. A 6ft5 monster of a man, who I still find hilarious and a good mate. Definitely not boyfriend material, meeting up with ex girlfriend's on the sly.

TOM.

The school – adult sweetheart, people thought we'd be together forever. It would for everyone else but us, and we're still firm friends.

ADAM.

The less said the better -however, I refuse to let myself go through all that to have him be more successful than me. He once said, casually after a huge argument “maybe one day I'll let you be a runner on a big production I organise”.

I never thought I could be so angry at a person.

THE ONE.

There are four people required to properly fall in love. You. The childhood sweetheart. The rebound and 'The One'. The is based on an experience you, yourself have probably encountered, and the stories you've heard from many others.

Your childhood sweetheart is the one that tripped you over in the playground, called you nasty names but secretly made macaroni heart shapes on a card and covered it in glitter, the secret softie that left it in your work drawer at school. Your best friends after hours of torturing would make you admit you fancied each other and a relationship would develop over holding hands and sharing 10p Freddos. This, in some cases, carried on throughout school and onward into the technological world of Facebook (or in your case, MySpace) and you'd end up infuriating everyone by declaring your love on statuses. “I'll love u forever and eva. Nothing can tear us apart, u r my 1 nd only!!” followed by an insane amount of 'x' kisses. You cringe thinking about it, and nowadays feel physically sick when you see it repeated by younger generations following suit. Although it was a good relationship, it's not “real” - you end up becoming friends and don't find a way to break through the child-adult transition. You are, understandably devastated and get with the next living breathing meat sack you come across. It doesn't go well, it ends terribly and you never speak again. And then...

You don't understand this. He has scruffy hair. His tongue pokes out when he full-on “grins” You feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world when you talk to him or even just think about him. He's fantastically great for you. He's amazing. You feel so comfortable around him. He has a fabulous accent. You believe you can overcome anything together, because you make a perfect team. He's too grown up, but acts a complete child just around you. He fits in and around your personality. You can call him the most horrible names under the sun but he knows you mean them lovingly. He thinks the weird things you do are cute He seems to love your really inane ramblings which no one else puts up with. He's your best friend. He understands, and you feel if he didn't he'd do his best to.

He's broken down this "wall" you both described to make you the happiest you have been with someone in your life. You can tell him anything and everything. You're getting ready to experience and feel something you never have. It's scary, but, with him, you feel you can do it. And that's only because it's him. He makes you smile. He brings you up; you could feel terrible, at rock bottom, and he somehow has it about him to pull you back. He's everything to you. He has always been there. You would do anything for him. He has the same values as you. He understands how important your best friend is to you, and he gets along with them - that's one of the most

important things. You can bitch to him, and he'll happily join in. He makes you laugh He's made you cry, far too many times - but never ever in a maliciously horrible way. You think about him far too much and you're pretty sure it's verging on unhealthy. You trust him.

You're playing for keeps. He makes you think rationally about things. He looks adorable, whatever he does, even all mucky and nosebleedy He loves welsh things He loves cwtches. He looks amazing in a suit. He looks better in the 'fun guy' shirt. He has a beard.

He's the last thing you think about before you go to sleep and the first thing you think about when you wake up. He makes you spout ridiculous cliches that you never thought you'd be caught dead saying. You are completely obsessed. Which still, scares you beyond belief, but calms you at the exact same time. You now cannot fathom the idea of not having him in your life. You don't know where you'd be right now if you didn't have him helping you through so many things. Even now, when he puts on his super-serious-stern face to make you get your university work finished. You've found your place in life. When you found him, you found yourself. You love listening to him ramble on. When you both walked to the train when he was leaving, listen to him talk about holidays, holding his hand in

the funny fingerless gloves he had one which didn't match his suit jacket. That was your moment of clarity. You know your arguments will never regress back to how arguments were with others. You know your life is never going to be that bad again. You want to thank him for making such a positive impact on your life, and loving you the way you do. The One.