Of Daisy Chains and Boyfriends
You meet your first boyfriend when you�re nine years old and he�s in the same class as you. There�s giggling and passing of notes and suddenly everyone�s talking about �Nikki and Jamie forever� and you�ve got hearts drawn all over your pencil case with his name in them. You sit with him at lunch and hold his hand in the playground and you pretend to play happy families.
He picks daisies and makes daisy chains for you. And you say �I love you� and it doesn�t really mean a thing because by the next week, he�s going out with a prettier girl from another class and you�re already over him.
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You kiss a boy (properly) just after your twelfth birthday. It�s quick and awkward and in the end, you only really do it because your friend kissed a boy the week before and you feel like you�re missing out.
For a couple of weeks afterwards, he refuses to meet your gaze whenever you look in his direction and you�re not sure what you did wrong. Your friend says (with great authority in her voice because she knows about boys and things like that) that he�s just shy and playing hard to get (you don�t see how he can be both shy and playing hard to get but you go along with it because she knows) and that you should flirt (without being obvious) and he�ll come running back.
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You hit fifteen and it feels like everybody�s had sex except you. So exactly a month later, you go out with your friend and she gives you alcohol and you drink far too much and somehow you end up naked with a guy who�s three years older than you and you�ve never even met him before. You don�t remember much about that night but you learnt a couple of lessons: hangovers really aren�t that much fun; and �it� really isn�t as exciting as your friend said it would be.
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You spend your sixteenth year drinking too much and taking too many drugs and generally doing far too many things that send your father out of his mind with worry. You don�t know if you�re trying to hurt him or if you just don�t care if he worries anymore.
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You fall in love at eighteen and the months that follow are a blur of happiness and passion. He buys you roses and makes you feel like you�re the most beautiful woman on Earth and he says he�ll spend the rest of his life with you.
You find out on your six month anniversary that he�s had a girlfriend for the past year. You cry and spend several months feeling like your heart is slowly falling apart.
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You hit twenty and go out with more guys than is probably healthy. You don�t even like most of them but you like feeling loved (even if you�re fairly sure most of them just want you for your body) and they�re exciting and you love just being with them.
Your father is put in prison for fraud that year and you hate him for the way he used you. You refuse to speak to him, refuse to even acknowledge his existence.
Your string of bad boyfriends grows longer.
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Somehow, you pass your university course and end up working in South Africa with Tim (who you haven�t seen since you were ten years old and it�s a bit of a shock to see how everyone�s changed). You only work with him for six months and a year later you leave the country to go on a dig in Wales. You decide things have just changed too much (people have changed too much) for you to stay and much as you love this country, it�s not the paradise you saw it as for so many years.
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You have an amazing time in the Brecon Beacons and by the time the dig finishes, you don�t want to have to move on. So instead you take your bones and you pack your things and catch a train to Kings Cross, London, to find out about them. You leave behind your boyfriend, telling him you can�t stay (you�re just not the kind of person who hangs around for too long in one place).
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You wander into the pathology department, laying your bones across his desk and brushing your teeth in the mortuary and playing hockey in the morgue. You do facial reconstructions for him and Leo. You find out the story behind your bones�your �family�.
Leo offers you a job and you accept because something inside you says maybe it�s time to settle down in one place for a while and grow up (just a little).
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Two years later, he kisses you. And for a few hours, everything is perfect, everything is wonderful. He kissed you, he likes you. Then all of a sudden, he�s shouting and you�re angry and he�s angry and you�re crying in the middle of the fucking pathology lab (and you know Leo doesn�t believe a word of it when you say you�re fine but you�re so glad that he doesn�t press the issue).
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He holds you in the car and rocks you to sleep and you think �maybe, just maybe� . Maybe, just maybe he�s the one. You smile and it doesn�t bring back Adrian and it doesn�t wipe out the last day but somehow, it feels a little easier with his arms around you.
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You lie on a blanket in Hyde Park, your head on his chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heart beat. He picks daisies and makes daisy chains for you and when he�s threading the flowers into your hair you think about being nine and you smile at him and he smiles back and you think �maybe, just maybe�.