Life in a Scenic World

I lie down like a tired dog... licking its wounds in the shade.

Here's how our life would be, HC.

We'd live in Germany or France, maybe even England for a few years. You'd continue your brilliant work, I'd have a career in translation and interpreting. I'd draw a bit on the side.

We'd live in a nice flat, nice, not astonishingly magnificent, but a place with enough space. Three or four rooms, a comfortable sofa, decorated in a chic way. You'd cook and I'd wash up (because I like washing up, and you prefer cooking). We'd watch stupid things that we both enjoy together, and you'd teach me about maths. At the weekend, we'd go walking, or friends would come to visit us, or we'd do both. We'd do some sporting things. You'd play your saxophone, and I'd play my little guitar.

We'd laugh a lot, and we'd hold each other a lot. We'd doze off in each other's arms and we'd decorate for Christmas, a big tree with lots of baubles and fairy lights. You'd discover that I can't organise anything to save my life, that I am jealous and pedantic.

It would be hard at first, telling everyone that knows us that actually, we've fallen for each other. It would only be hard for me to tell my parents, and even then, it wouldn't be too bad, because I'm so proud of you. Even if we're not in a relationship, I'm proud that you're my sort-of friend. You're honest, you know about maths, you are funny and kind and clever. You say what you think, your voice is lovely and I think you're absolutely beautiful. There's no one else I'd rather touch, no one else I'd rather look at. It would probably be harder for you.

At Christmas, we'd watch all of the Christmas films together, drink port and lemonade, red wine, gluehwein, snowballs and beer, and we'd walk around our European town to look at all the lights. We'd play in the snow. Our first Christmas, just the two of us, we'd wake up and give each other our little things, then cook a huge dinner. Maybe friends would come, maybe not.We'd intermingle traditions; mince pies and snowballs with whatever you do. Maybe we'd go to hear a mass; you believe, I don't, but I like hearing the nuns singing and the general historical feel.

We'd argue sometimes, I'm sure, but we'd be happy. I'd want us to argue. I can't stand relationships that aren't honest, especially with the person you're meant to be closest to. It feels as though my flirtation with D is chipping away at my desires for others, not because I like her that much, but because I am giving myself to her. I feel like I'm trying her out, as if it's commercial, and I don't like that.

I'd rather have you.