The lullaby junkie

We shared our first kiss and the only way to describe it was as if I were kissing myself, we kissed one another the same way, touched the same way, and laughed the same way, we were soulmates. In that moment we both fell in love.

I was 24 years old and could honestly say that I had never been in love, I had been pretty close once but he shattered my faith in him long before I had managed to succumb. But nevertheless we had a baby together. Three long years passed and I felt very alone, but very busy. My daughter filled the space that I felt and I had a couple of boyfriends that fluttered in and out of my life. I had decided with much certainty that I hated men, they were far too fickle and because I had a baby that would mean I would remain on the shelf forever. So I had reached the conclusion that it was better to hate, than long for something I had no chance or time to obtain.

Then one day, by chance, something caught me off-guard. There was a bulletin on my space advertising for a 'date', I was intrigued, and I recall quickly opening the bulletin to see more.

The bulletin looked like this:
'Anyone free tonight?'
'So, I have a car full of petrol, about £15 and half a bottle of tequila. Anyone up for a date and getting smashed?'

...Well I was intrigued, most people would just turn away, but I felt an indescribable urge to find out more about this junkie of 'lullabies'. After re-reading the bulletin I then decided to find out more, after all you need to find out about a person before one goes about drinking tequila with a stranger. So I decided to learn more about this person.

I loaded up his myspace, and realised that this was a person I knew from school, not just any old person but a boy that had lived down my road and I had spent half of my life at the same schools and places as him. Strangely I found myself comforted at the fact that I already knew him, even stranger when I thought that I don't know him and I am starting to feel an attraction for what could just be a witty chat up line.

I read his myspace and it all sounded very different to my life; I had spent the last five years dividing my time between university and giving birth. He had been out partying all hours, living a 'true bohemian lifestyle' as we later decided to put it, and sharing a bed with five other people. His life was just so different to mine that I was enthralled and decided that I had to reply immediately. I nervously replied saying that 'I would love to go on a date!' I left it like that although at the same time I quickly thought to myself, 'What if it is some dreadful joke...and what would he want with a single mother like me?' He was out enjoying himself and writing songs and I spent my time covered in baby sick or pulling all-nighters for university. I quickly lost my bottle and sent him another response saying, 'Yea that was really funny, it cheered me up,' I then remember breathing a sigh of relief that I hadn't made myself look stupid and also scolded myself because as a mother I should not 'put myself about on the internet', the latest craze 'myspace whores'-single mother's being the worst. 'Oh no I have escaped that label' I thought to myself.

In that same moment a reply popped up that read 'Ok cool, I'll bring some booze, where do you live?' Now at that point I felt very silly for cutting the idea off so quickly and also nervous at the possibility!
Then I got another response that read, 'Silly me, of course you would not be interested-joke on me. Don't I feel stupid?'
I then felt like I had to respond and began feeling sorry for the boy I remember, I responded with, 'No, I thought you were, ok cool lets meet up-here is my phone number....'

After that he called within minutes and began explaining his life story to me, starting with the bohemian lifestyle. I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to him, how the conversation flowed-even after he told me that he suffered from Asperger's syndrome and it affected his social skills. We spoke on the phone until the early hours of the morning. By the next afternoon I had to speak to him again, so I called and we spoke for hours. The day passed by and we were still talking. I had never known anything like this; he also revealed his passion for poetry-a passion that I too shared. We began to write poems to one another, he insisted we meet up; it was at that point that I became hesitant, what if we got on so well over the phone but we met and it was a huge disappointment. I postponed our meeting via text message and he quickly responded with an ultimatum. We either meet now or forget it, a guy giving me an ultimatum? Well secretly I loved it! We quickly arranged to meet the next day and I would drop my daughter off at nursery.

The Friday came and I remember no longer feeling nervous. We went out for the entire day, went for a meal and wandered around the art gallery whilst he explained how the artist has devised each piece. I thought to myself 'So this is love?' every inch of him intrigued me. He was an awkward looking person, had long brown hair that he never washed, was a model for some catalogue I couldn't pronounce and he shared every single interest I did. As I looked at a painting he kissed me quickly on the cheek, I shyly looked at him then looked away. This behaviour was unknown to me.
We walked together and collected my daughter from nursery, he was brilliant with her we got to my house and he played her some songs. I got her ready for bed, happier than I had ever known.

We sat up all night the hours felt like mere seconds, shared stories from school, lives so intertwined and yet so different. I felt he epitomised everything I could have been before my daughter, before I lost faith in my dreams and began to fear them instead.

We shared our first kiss and the only way to describe it was as if I were kissing myself, we kissed one another the same way, touched the same way, and laughed the same way, we were soulmates. In that moment we both fell in love.

We spent two weeks away from the world, tucked up in bed making love until we cried. Afterwards he would sing songs to me, he had the voice of an angel, he was my angel, and he had rescued me. I told him I had never felt like this before, and he promised to look after me. After all how could you let yourself down, and that’s what we felt like, as though we were the mirror image of one another. He taught me to have faith in the things I loved again; I began to write poems, to think about writing the book I had been too scared to even begin, also to paint. That was the hardest; I had lost all faith since a mentally abusive relationship with my daughter's father. But with him I could paint the sky and in that sky my dreams were reincarnated.

Then it was his birthday, he prepared for his birthday with a slight hesitancy because it was his first birthday without his best friend; his friend had killed himself just three months prior to us meeting. He had discovered his body and since then had never truly recovered. The friends he shared a bed with were the friends that lived through the same experience-it all made sense to me. He called me his saviour, my house was the first house he had felt he could stay at since it happened. I felt honoured.

After his birthday his behaviour became erratic, he was prescribed the same anti-depressants his friend had been taking when he killed himself. He changed overnight, never said he loved me, told me to stop asking him questions if I asked whether I would see him that week. We only saw one another once after he began the medication-I no longer saw my saviour-he no longer saw me, the drugs came between us he no longer needed me.

Since that day I have continued to write and continue to follow my dreams because of him, he saved me and I am truly thankful. He never called again and I never knew why. A fleeting romance, yet I still wonder about my lullaby junkie.


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