Waiting atop a well known London hill, amongst the couples, on the most romantic day of the year. Below a solitary street lamp I stand and sigh with nervous expectation; looking left than right and back again. I am waiting for my Valentine but he is late.
In a perfect film like moment I feel all eyes turn to me. Breaking their loved filled evening to notice the only person standing alone. I want the ground to swallow me whole. I know that this is only the prelude to my night and that he didn’t mean this to happen but I can’t help but laugh at this particular situation I’ve got myself in to. How ridiculous I felt sat on a stone wall, in the shadows alone, as everyone else on that hill enjoyed the night.
When he did finally arrive, running up the other side of the hill, he tumbled in to my arms breathlessly rushing apologies. I gave him a hard time for it but really couldn’t stay angry for long. He put so much effort in to the rest of the night that I had no other option.
When he was late I was scared. Petrified because I thought the same things that ruined me last year were happening again . I know now that that is not the case and I should have trusted him. He is no one but himself and I need top stop vilifying him any chance I get. New starts, new connections and a new point of view.