I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

Whisky came to stay at my house one night, not long after we’d met, and he basically never left. We used to joke that he was the one-night stand that never fucked off, but we didn’t exactly have that one-night stand, did we? He was never going to be a one-hit wonder for me; I was smitten with him from day one. Properly smitten, too. Giggling, hair twiddling, the lot. It was quite pathetic, really. Whisky seemed to like it, so that’s all that really matters, I guess.

He had a key to The Flat pretty quickly. It just felt right. That old saying – If you know, you know – rang through my ears every time my friends told me that things were moving too fast. Whisky made me happy. He made me cry with laughter and smile until my cheeks grew sore, and he could make me come, too. What more could I possibly want? He had it all, and then some. I thought I’d hit the jackpot.

One night, Whisky and I were in bed, and I couldn’t sleep. He had to get up early the next morning to run back down to camp, but my tossing and turning kept him awake.

“Do you need to talk about something?” he offered.

“No. I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll try to get some sleep on the couch.”

He shook his head and dragged me closer. “I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

I thought he was joking, but he reached above us to the radio-alarm clock on the bedside cabinet and switched it on. Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing was playing on the local radio station, about one-quarter of the way through. He started singing, and I couldn’t help but giggle. He sounded terrible. So, so bad. But he kept going, even though his cheeks turned a little red with embarrassment, until he’d finished the entire song.

“That was beautiful,” I laughed. “Truly a work of art.”

The most beautiful boy in the world just kissed me, and I melted. A new song played in the background: Corinne Bailey Rae’s Put Your Records On. It became one of ‘our’ songs, because it seemed to play on that radio-alarm clock every single night when we went to bed, for months. Perhaps it was scheduled to play at that time. We liked to think that it was a beautiful little coincidence, just for us. A sign that we were in the right place, at exactly the right time.

“Made for each other,” he’d said. And I truly believed it.

It didn’t matter where we were; Whisky would sing that Aerosmith song to me every time it played – in the car, in the club, in a grocery store, it didn’t matter. If the song played around us, he sung it to me.

And that was that: I loved him. It hadn’t been long, only a few weeks, but I was, without a shadow of a doubt, head-over-heels in love with the most beautiful boy in the world. I never wanted him not to be in my bed, singing that song to me, ever again. He was meant to be there.

I just knew it.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: His Best Mate’s Girl.