Daniel Pearce. You could walk past him in the street and not look twice at him. I couldn’t. My heart would pound, my lips would go dry and my feet would refuse to have any communication with my brain. He has one massive fault though. The man is so unbelievably confusing! Are all men like this? Magazine pieces written by and for women would suggest this. Is it always a biased view or are there really only a few good ones ever left?
I don’t understand how he can be so distant sometimes, and to be honest, I’m not sure I ever will. Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe things will get better. But isn’t the beginning of a relationship supposed to be the best bit, the honeymoon period?
When we’re together things are more than perfect. In fact, I couldn’t possibly wish for more. We hold hands. I love his fingers entwined with mine; the way his hands are always slightly clammy. He says it’s because I make him nervous. When he looks at me, the right side of his mouth turns up slightly, like he knows what I’m thinking. Even when he’s not smiling, his eyes are. His kisses can be gentle and sweet tasting, but they can also be hard and hungry and rough. This is when I pull away.
The reason I pull away is simple, or is it? I want him to love me, and he specifically does not want to. It would mess up his plans. But what he hasn’t taken into account is the fact that I might not quite have reached the heady heights of love, but I’m certainly in too deep to just turn and walk away.
I blame literature for my disappointment. The older I get, the more cynical I become. I read Freya North and Dorothy Koomson and Jane Austen and Stephenie Meyer and want so much to achieve what they do for their characters. True love. Everyone knows about it. Everyone seems to know so much you’d think everyone else except for you has experienced it. Maybe I am on my own having not experienced it. If so, why me?
The worse thing that could happen now is for people to think this is just another soppy love story and it's not worth reading. What I am aiming for is a blow by blow account of internet dating, experienced by yours truly. Hopefully, by the time I have finished writing it there will be some assemblance of a happy ending. I would hate to have to use some kind of creative embellishment.
