The Reason It Never Worked Out Before

When you are young, in the crazy mix of school work, trying to have a social life every girl is jealous of, and fighting to grow up fast, one of the biggest concerns for a young girl is love.

Love. It's a big word when you're all grown up. Something you daren't say to your significant other unless you are either very brave, or absolutely sure they will say it back.

When you're a dewy eyed 13 year old girl, beginning your decent into woman-hood, love is of the utmost importance. You'll sit there in your least favourite class, day dreaming out into the rain of the young boy who caught your attention in the lunch queue today. The boy in your English class who you haven't yet had the opportunity to speak to, knowing that that is most likely for the better, as you'd have no idea what to say to him.

You finally become friends with your crush, and the feelings you have for him rapidly grow. Then one day your interfering best friend decides to step in. She pulls him aside when you "don't know" and tells him you "fancy the pants" off him. He admits that, yes, he feels the same.

Suddenly you're boyfriend and girlfriend, the happiest girl in the world. Although it's only been a matter of days, you both protest your undying love for each other every moment you can. You spend a few weeks in this "love," maybe a few months. Then one day he sends you a text stating that he doesn't feel the same anymore, and he still wants to be friends. What?! You haven't even kissed yet! How could this happen? It's the end of the world and your whole life is in pieces. You cry, you get angry. You decide you hate him anyway, so never mind.

You walk into school the next day, happy faced, with one hell of an "I don't care" front on, but when you arrive and meet your BFF, she tells you that she heard through the grapevine that he's all loved up with that girl from science who thinks she's it. Every lad fancies her, so it makes sense really. You're heartbroken. You want the ground to swallow you whole. It's the end of your entire world.

This happens a few times over the years, with different reasonings. Another one of your "true loves" broke it off because you didn't meet him one weekend. Another because you were 15 and weren't as ready in the sex department as he was, and so on.

You hit 16 and decide, you hate men. They're no good. They're all heartbreakers and cheats and you're done with the lot of them.

As the next couple of years pass, you've had a few small romances but nothing ever lasted; mainly because you had your super strong concrete wall up to block anymore heartache from coming your way. You're a stony ice queen who doesn't let herself get in deep enough to get hurt. You don't even long for love anymore, you're not looking for someone. You're happy as you are, living for you.

You're at work one day, behind the bar of a little carvery/pub, going through the usual grind of a late Friday night shift. You're a fresh faced 18 year old, you just want to do your job and get paid at the end of the month. That's all you care about. Times getting on and it's getting quite busy. Lots of groups in, drinking shots and chugging beers. A couple of Christmas parties in, and of course your beloved regulars.

One of the Christmas parties in are a loud group of builders. They're all laughing and joking and drinking far too much. One of the men in this group continuously comes up to buy the drinks, calling you sweetheart and darling, and giving the usual chat that you hear from a lot of the young drunk men. Why is it every man feels the need to flirt with the barmaid?! Your uneventful shift ends and you drag your tired feet home.

A week passes with the usual; work, home, eat, sleep. It's like an endless loop. The daily grind. You were so desperate to grow up, and now you wish you could go back in time. Back to school. No worries, no bills. Just fun.

You're halfway through a shift; your favourite shift because you start late and finish early. It's about 4:30pm and it's quiet, the regulars are in, same as every day, and a few families grabbing a dinner out after school and work has ended.

You hear a call for service at the bar, and you dash back to do your job. Standing at the bar is the flirtatious builder from last week. He's dirty from work, covered in dust and cement, with scruffy hair and a slightly overgrown beard. He's waving a £50 and ordering in a round of drinks, all the while calling you darling and giving you what you can only guess is his most dazzling smile. You serve his drinks, take his money, and away he walks.

An hour passes and you're standing to the side, secretly using your phone while the bar is quiet and your manager is out of sight. "So when can I take you out for dinner then darling?" It's him. The builder. He's rough and rugged, but yeah, he is kinda hot. You giggle and ask what he's having. He asks again, but all you can do is giggle and walk away. What do you say to something like that?! I for one have never had the highest self-esteem, so that kind of situation makes me feel awkward.

This carries on for several weeks. Every time he's in he's asking to take you for dinner. You continue to evade his questions, your wall up as high as it can get. Then one day, your mouth runs away from you and you accept his offer for dinner. He's taking you out on a date tomorrow night. It's done. No turning back now...

Your date goes way better than you dreamed it would. The conversation flows, you never run out of things to talk about, dinner is delicious, and the drinks are even better. You end your evening full of excitement, and he drops you home. He goes in for a kiss and you panic at the last moment and give your cheek, then say goodbye and run off inside like a kid at Christmas. All smiles and excitement, you ignore your mum's "so how was it?" And head straight to bed. He will be in the pub tomorrow before your shift ends, he is everyday, and you can't wait.

Fast forward three and a half years.

I am sitting here writing this on my living room sofa. My builder is sitting on the chair opposite me watching boxing, our two beautiful little girls tucked up safely in bed. Our first daughter, Amelia, happened quick, only 7 months into our relationship I fell pregnant, and we couldn't have been happier.

Our second daughter, Sophie, was born 1 year and 9 months after Amelia. They are both the most perfect little girls we have ever seen, and we wouldn't change them for the world.

We are a family, and we are happy. I am glad that those relationships as a young teen never worked out. Everything happens for a reason, and I wouldn't be where I am today if those things hadn't gone the way they did.

I firmly believe that if you are really looking for something, you will never find it. If you take a step back and enjoy the position you are in at the time, everything else will fall into place.

If we always strive for perfection, we will never truly be happy. We all have flaws. Love is not about changing those flaws. It is about accepting those flaws and learning to love every single one of them.

Those past "loves" weren't real love, and now I know what love really is. It's not going out to eat every night, it's not smiling and laughing together all the time. It's the mess he leaves on his way out in the morning, it's the dirty socks he leaves under the table. It's his annoying habits that he just can't seem to get out of. It's my morning look that he still thinks is beautiful. My post-baby body that he still fancies. The big fights, the pointless spats, and being able to forgive and forget. It's the way he still kisses me and tells me he loves me when he walks out, even if he's just going to the toilet; even if we aren't actually speaking to each other at that moment in time. It's him. It will always be him.