I was seventeen years old when Michelle and I were introduced. I couldn't tell you what she was wearing, but I do remember that she had black hair with a bright blue streak through it. She was pixie cute, forward in a way that wasn't invasive, and I liked her instantly. While we had a good natured disagreement about what what each side of a taijitu represented, I became aware of a strange connection with her. Unfortunately we had been introduced by Mark, my oldest friend, and Michelle's new boyfriend.
Over the next few weeks, we saw each other a few more times, but I can honestly say that I never considered or thought of anything romantic between us. She was with Sparkie (Mark), someone who is as close to being family to me as someone can be without the shared chromosomes. Not to mention that I was somewhat distracted by the fact that I had started seeing a girl too. My first girlfriend in fact. And so the girl with the blue hair, my bestfriend's girl, was essentially forgotten about.
Time passes, relationships end, life moves on.
* * *
Sparkie had an active social life back then. He was, and remains, one of the most personable and naturally charismatic people I know. These talents served him well in life in general, but probably more often in love and lust. What I'm trying to say is, he saw a lot of girls. Or rather, he saw a lot of many girls. This being the case, in addition to a few alchopops, is probably why he didn't figure it out sooner. After all, she did look very different.
We were at a local nightclub and, while he was getting some drinks, I was dancing like everyone was watching (which is to say, extremely awkwardly) when somebody called out my name. I said hello to the girl who knew my name but I had no idea who she was. Surely I wouldn't forget a girl with bright red hair which was shorter than mine, would I? It took us maybe 20 minutes to figure out that Michelle with the short red hair was Michelle with the blue hair. After that we got to talking.
In those days (and probably still), when the clubs closed in East Kilbride, it was an unwritten social rule that the night could not end until you went to the local chippy, The Victor (or Victor's which everybody annoyingly calls it), for a half pizza and chips. This was always my favourite part of the night; everyone could talk without shouting, the booze was wearing off a little, and most of the choads had shambled off for the night.
It was there, still talking while we sat against the window of The Victor, that Michelle lay her head on my shoulder. It felt to me like she had always belonged there. I am typically awkward with people, I am very uncomfortable when given any affection, and was particularly so when that affection came from a pretty girl. I had even been like that with the girl I had been seeing. But not then, not with her. It was only after the door of her taxi closed that I realised I should have kissed her.
* * *
A few weeks later it was Sparkie's 18th birthday, and I was eager to see him and give him his gift, I had got him a wallet which was a replica of the one from Pulp Fiction, the one which said BAD MOTHER FUCKER. We lived opposite each other back then so I had went over as soon as I woke up. From that point on it was one of the best days of my life. I can't remember a day before that in which I was happier or had more fun.
By the time we reached Plush, the local club, we were giddy. Having been having as much fun as everyone else, and possibly because it was a special occasion, led Sparkie's dad, David, to decide that he didn't want the party to end just because we were leaving, he was going dancin'! As we made our way to the club to the tune of Bonny M's Daddy Cool, I couldn't have imagined that my day was going to get any better.
We met Michelle and her friends almost immediately on arriving at the club. Naturally I was pleased to see her, but I didn't realise how much until, on seeing her give Sparkie a hug and kiss to say happy birthday, I felt a little twinge of jealousy and a little pang of panic. After that I'm not exactly sure what happened but nevertheless, I found that Michelle and I were soon together on the dance floor. Just me, her, and David.
I was already feeling guilty about my feelings for Michelle, so you can maybe imagine how awkward it was that all that the only thing that stood between us was my best friend's dad, Michelle's ex-boyfriend's father. It actually didn't take long for David to catch on, but the guilt was still nagging at me. I excused myself, found my friends, and took Sparkie aside. Just as I knew he would, he laughed when I asked him if he would mind if I asked Michelle out (or probably, more accurately, if he would mind if I "got off" with her). With my friend's blessing secured I made my way back to the dance floor with Michelle. As Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl started playing, and I was still planning to make my move, Michelle kissed me.
My life changed after that. We were together most of the time, and spoke on the phone when were apart (actually spoke, there was no texting back then kids). We had found each other and didn't want to let go.
There have been a lot of changes in our lives since that night in July of 1999, some hard, some joyous, but the one constant which has never changed is that I love her, and she, I'm grateful to say loves me.
