#matchamker

Celebrating our first year together and currently searching for our first home, I thought I'd share this secret blog that I have kept hidden until now, marking our first anniversary as a couple and remembering how it felt to hear it for the first time. A Matchmaker special one year on: Elephant Juice. 

Part I: Matchmaker Matchmaker Make Me A Match.

Part II: Matchmaker Have You Made Me A Match?

Part III: Find Me A Find, Catch Me A Catch.

Part IV: One Message Received.

Part V: Steak Night.

Part VI: First Base.

Part VII: For One Night Alone, Brand New.

Part VIII: That Talk.

Part IX: Red Red Wine.

Part X: The First Morning. 

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The sun began to warm the cold droplets at the window as the light poured into the room like an unstoppable bleed. "Do you like me?" I said, as I tossed back the covers, reversing myself like a small van into the little spoon position I'd come to recognise as my safe place; as home. 

"Like, actually, REALLY like me?" 

"Whhhhhhy?" he replied, still dubious as to where this suspicious sounding question was going. 

"Oh, just curious." Thankful I wasn't facing him, a girlish grin unmistakably whipped its way to my upturned lips, as I effortly tried to pull them back down. 

"Oh my God Karen, you can't just ask someone that" he said in a terrible American accent whilst nudging me in the ribs, fought off by my invariably cold hands. I felt his body tighten as I smirked at the recognisable but-not-quite-right Mean Girls quote - seriously, could this man be any more suited to me? 

"You're an idiot" I scoffed back.  

He rolled over, kissed my forehead, threw back the duvet and vacated our self heated nest; towel in tow thrown over his shoulder. Of course I didn't miss the opportunity to secretly spy with one eye from beneath the sheets, as my emerald eyed matchmaker left for the shower. 

He paused for a moment to turn back from the door; a non-toothy smile spilled over his bearded face. I cheekily peeped over the pillow as his eyes most purposefully narrowed, querying my morning interrogation. 

He knew. We both knew. His sleep talking habits he had once warned me about, had whispered too much in the night and he knew it. Those three unspoken words that were waiting, had already been said. That all knowing smile wasn't as mute as it looked. 

(Image by Stuart Conner, models unknown)

So what were these three unspoken words that were now said? 

Elephant juice. Say it in the mirror. 

El…lephant…juice

I…love…you…

It had been twenty six minutes after two in the morning when he had awoken, sitting bolt upright chuntering something about a dog, a red ribbon and a tree. His vivid dreams were becoming part of our bedtime routine; he'd sleep, he'd jump, we'd wake, I'd tell him we were okay and we'd both sleep again. It became almost so often that I no longer recall the details - simply responding to the murmurs in my own hypnotic daze, not losing a moment with the sandman for a second. 

However, that night had been different. I heard the mutters and the mumbles, but I slept on without a care. Then there it was..."I love you". Three words that drifted from his poised lips as his closed eyelids flickered in the dark shadows. 

"Hmm?" I mumbled back to his unresponsive body, a little unsure as to what I'd just heard and unwilling to widen my peepers. 

"What? Elephant juice?" I said a little louder, more awake and physically starting to hold back the giggles from behind my hand.

"I love you..." 

HA! He'd said it again! I definitely heard it this time and okay his eyes were still closed and his impassive reactions told me he wasn't even conscious, but still, he had said it...and...*gasp* I could totally make him say it again!

"Sorry? WHAT?"...one more time for good measure. I waited with bated breath.

No reply. I'd lost it. Damn.  

There was not another utter mustered from his perfect sleepy mouth. Just a loud sigh and then he was gone again, lost to the land of deep slumber. I lay there wondering if he meant it, or if there was a dream going on in that handsome head. Was it aimed for me...or maybe another? Did the words even mean anything at all?

Slipping in and out of consciousness, that place where you're not asleep nor awake (that place where Tink will be waiting), I contemplated sleep in all her questionable and untrustworthy glory. Fatigue; such a revealing state of mind. We’re extra grumpy, extra silly, extra honest - drunk on simply being tired. People will say anything when they're half sleeping. 

Before allowing the Z's to return, I wondered whether to tell him of his slumber slip ups whilst questioning if he would deny it? Most probably. Unable to risk the retort of embarrassment, I decided to keep my trap schtum. I was happy in a moment that essentially was a lie, but where I didn’t care enough for reality.

I closed my eyes, his safe arms back around me and we didn’t wake up til the morn. He knew. I knew. It was only a matter of time til we'd say it outloud, but until that day...elephant juice too.