If a year ago you asked me to draw a man I want to meet, I would have drawn – well, sort of you. I don’t think i could manage the eyes or the way the corners lift when you smile. I would possibly have sketched in the way you bring me things for no reason, definitely the way you kiss me breathless. I would have made a valiant attempt at outlining the shape of your mouth around the words “I Love You” but rubbed it out in a hurry, sure I wasn’t good enough. At drawing. realistically anyway. I could have managed the broad shoulders, or hands slightly bigger than my own, imagined holding them, fingers locked. The things I could never have jotted into the wishlist would be, how it feels to finally be safe again. How it feels in the morning after I sleep next to you and finally sleep through, past your fidgeting feet and my sleeptalking. Someone, somewhere is fond of me because thrown into the deal you are a wonderfully good person. And so, if someone asked me to draw my ideal person, to share life with, to grow alongside, I wouldn’t have drawn you. There’s no way, it’s absolutely impossible, that I could have known just how much good was on it’s way. I think I could draw you now. With little hearts floating around your head, and your eyes crumpled in the corners the way you smile at me when I open the door.