There are decisions to made at my age, or maybe a realisation of what you have when comparing it to what you've had.
19, now that was love, crazy all consuming, passionate, and nobody else understood.
In years gone by, there’s been, she’s leaving the country, I love her (if she hadn’t been leaving would I have felt that way), then there’s we argue all the time, but that’s the passion (meaning we had great sex).
Then there was, I write poetry about her, but really it was about me, and some dodgy Cure lyrics.
There was we get drunk together, and live life, and make this city our playground, but looking back it was some drunk and not great sex, but some great hangovers, that turned into orange and vodka, with spliff breakfasts.
There was stare into each others eyes in busy night clubs, with tales of how much we loved each other, for hours on end, once we’d stopped dancing, but that was just drug love, and a jar of Vicks.
There was the best mate, who ended up in my bed, and whom I dearly loved, but the timing was always wrong, but that could have been forever.
Then there was Euro girl, and finally the jackpot, culture, new language, new cookery (no kebabs), travel, sun, proposals in Central Park, a ring, then fiery arguments (in truth they were there all the time) and heartbreak, almost the script of every sub titled film I’ve ever seen, OK not German ones.
Then there was shy girl, beautiful and trusting. Taking to me and my lifestyle, embracing the madness and passion that is me, whilst giving me stability, and sanity, truly the saving of me.
But is it all too little to late? Is the love I felt at 19 the best there is ever gonna be, or is now with the wonderful person I’m with the real love. In truth I don’t know, and it hurts me to try and categorise or prioritise it.