From about the age of 25, I had a niggle in the back of my mind that I might not ever find Mr Right, get married and have children. At times I would feel lonely, and worried about ever meeting The One - the chances seemed pretty slim to me.
I spent my twenties in London, partying, watching Ally McBeal, dabbling in Internet dating, and eating cold Chinese takeaways for breakfast. I would go out to bars and clubs with my friends, always with half an eye on trying to find my suitor. As the years went by and I got closer to thirty, the niggle got bigger.
Then I met Tom, through mutual friends. We spent the first two years of knowing each other, forming a purely platonic relationship, and although we weren't 'together' I stopped fretting over whether I would ever find the one. I just enjoyed my relationship with 'Platonic Tom' as my friends used to call him. We would go to Hampstead Heath and Primrose Hill and throw frisbees to each other. We would sit and talk for hours. We would feed each McDonald's chicken nuggets. We would go to the pub and have a pint and play chess. We would pretend to be tourists and get real tourists to take photos of us standing next to all the attractions in central London. We would cook for each other. We would listen to his depressing music together. We would paint and draw pictures together. We would play pool at the Elbow Rooms together.
We enjoyed each others company, we were best friends and neither of us were in any rush. I never worried about the fact that our relationship was platonic for so long, because I knew, really and truly, that I had found The One...
(This was written for Josie's writing workshop)