The Big Three

Is it possible that I'm on track for The Big Three?
Surely not. Surely the Holy Grail of every twenty-something girl's existence can't be within my grasp! I feel as though I'm in the presence of a rare species of deer and if I make any sudden movements, step on a twig or in any way let it know that I know it's there, it'll bolt.

In case you don't know, the principle of The Big Three is very simple. It's based on the premise that everything in life can be placed into three very clear categories. Home, Love and Work. It's generally accepted that it is possible to achieve satisfaction or even happiness in two of these three areas but the minute you look as though you're on track to conquer the third, it's highly likely that a problem will crop up in one of the others. It's just Murphy flexing his muscles and making sure none of us forget about his Law (who was this totalitarian bastard, anyway?? Answers on a postcard...).
However here we are, not even a month into 2007 and I have a very exciting new job starting next Monday, I'm on track to find a new flat which will hopefully tick the boxes (especially as we have realised we need to expand our limits with regard to price) and have met a man who is astonishing me, thrilling me and making me laugh in equal measure and seems to really like me. I have to treat this theory like a solar eclipse: I musn't look directly at it.

My date with S on Saturday was fantastic. Even though we did go bowling (I've now somehow been twice in the space of a month having successfully avoided it for twelve years). He later cooked for me at his flat; a simple but delicious menu of Monkfish wrapped in pancetta with a celeriac, carrot and savoy cabbage mix in cream sauce. I was mesmerised as I stood in the kitchen doorway sipping red wine and occasionally chopping things in a supportive fashion. I've never had a man cook for me before and it is surprisingly arousing. We drank cold Muscadet and ate in the living room by the glow of his now rather stale Christmas tree's lights. We stayed up for hours just talking (his flatmate had tactfully decamped to her boyfriend's so we had the flat) and tentatively opened the Ex-File a little more. I am aware that it's rather early to be having these coversations but it really didn't feel like a fourth date...it had substance. Despite it being my Special Time (ironic capitals) I stayed over and, in bed, as we succumbed to the soporific effects of the wine and food, he murmured that he wanted to try and make a go of this and asked if I would give him a chance.

Lots of things tore through my mind at that point. I've only known you for a month. I haven't met any of your friends - will they like me? You haven't met any of mine - will they like you? You're still in touch with your exes and I'm insecure but will I be insecure with you or will I finally be happy? I haven't seen how you are around anyone else. I haven't seen you angry, sad, really drunk, really hungover, frustrated, disappointed, high or demonstrating any of the habits every human has, good or bad. I don't know if you get jealous, I don't know if you'll be bored by how limited my life has been so far. How can I launch myself into something with someone I feel I know so well but actually don't know at all? So what did I do with all these thoughts hurtling round my brain like skaters on an ice rink? I kissed his eyelids and I said yes.

There's a ridiculously trite saying that's probably stitched onto a million cushions that includes the line 'love like you've never been hurt'. That part has been going through my head a lot recently. I've had a catalogue of failed relationships but each time I meet someone new I conveniently forget the hurt, the anger, the dark, shouty, bleak nights that seem to go on forever and I pin my heart to my sleeve and dive right in. Am I really that desperate to achieve The Big Three?