Whether we’re experiencing an Indian Summer or a slightly absent autumn, I neither mind nor care, because the sun is out and the schools are back and subsequently spots like Kynance have become sublimely quiet and calm. And not once, but twice this week we’ve had this utter beaut of a beach to ourselves – it’s been a little bit wonderful to say the least.
On one trip Sarah joined Matt and I, with her camera (and insane photography skills) to capture something of our time together. As one of us is generally behind the camera, we’ve very few photos of ourselves as a couple – with almost all exceptions being overly-close-up selfies. So to have some beautiful photos of the two of us, spending some time somewhere we love, really means the world to us. And it’s pretty fair to say that I spent almost all yesterday afternoon trawling through the shots Sarah sent over, gasping and gushing and slowly turning to marshmallow.
Disclaimer: I will try and keep all vomit-inducing sentimentality to a minimum in this post, I promise. Although haters of romance be warned, you may find the following content distressing.
Matt occasionally makes an appearance on my blog, but for the most part he prefers to stay behind the scenes. However we felt this was perhaps a good time to properly introduce him and our story.
We first met during our second week of fresher’s fortnight at one of the big parties put on by our student’s union. I was dancing with my flatmates (just about the only people I knew at this point) and he wandered into our circle. Perhaps because he stood opposite me or perhaps because they thought I wanted to dance alone with him; for whatever reason my flatmates wandered off one by one, “to the toilet” “to get a drink” and they never returned.
Now I should perhaps say here that I don’t really “get” with people on nights out. No judgement on those who behave differently, but it’s just not how I work. Still Matt seemed kind and friendly and I felt safe around him; he was considerate and thoughtful and on several occasions he made sure I wasn’t hurt by the overly busy, bustling crowd. I couldn’t deny we had some connection and dancing with him was a lot of fun. And so since I couldn’t think of a polite way to easily and discreetly leave, I stayed.
We danced till the lights came on at around 2am. In this time we’d shimmied and talked the hours away and I was feeling more than a little light-headed with the magic of it all. But it was at that precise moment, as we began to walk down into the student village, that I slipped away from him in a big crowd. I escaped into the night and made it to my little flat, free of awkward conversations or attempts at a kiss. I felt pretty pleased with myself.
…but the next morning I only felt a mixture of regret and shame. Why had I been so eager to get away from someone who’d been nothing but kind to me? Why couldn’t I have just been friendly and said goodnight? With only Matt’s first name, a quick Facebook stalk proved pretty futile. By the end of the day I pulled my big-girl-socks up and I told myself to move on. But still I found myself secretly keeping an eye out for him on campus and having my head suddenly turned by someone who dressed or talked or walked the same way.
Fast forward two months and it was our university’s Christmas ball. To this day (for reasons besides Matt) it remains one of my favourite parties. I made other amazing friends that night and equally unforgettable memories. In a red dress, with a wide ruby smile I remember twirling and laughing and half way through the night I heard someone behind me say my name. And I slowly turned to see Matt stood on the dance floor right where I’d left him.
Now I don’t like using words like fate or destiny – I mean even I’m cringing trying to explain this. But I occasionally (although very rarely) get a gut feeling so strong it’s as though I have been kicked in the stomach with such force, I am winded with the significance of that moment. I feel like this is as close as I come to those “time standing still” moments in the movies. Meeting Matt here, again, felt like everything falling into place. I felt winded with the significance of this moment; with this opportunity to start again, this second chance to do things differently.
Safe to say we danced and kissed and haven’t looked back since.
Now after almost four years together, Matt is so much more than just the stubbly face I kiss. He’s quickly become my best friend and partner in crime – to the point I wish I’d known him when I was very little – we would’ve gotten up to such mischief!
By far the most remarkable man I’ve yet to meet, Matt regularly astounds me with his patience and courage and ability to love me fiercely with complete tenderness. Simply put, Matt is my soul mate and home. Being around him feels natural to the point that we forget we’re separate people rather than just extensions of each other.
Perhaps it’s best to just leave it here and instead end on a quote that sums it all up much more succinctly…
Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same – Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
All Images by Salty Sea Photography