30 day challenge: day 1


Today is actually a pretty good day to write about Umby and me, since two years ago yesterday was the first time we hung out in person. Wild, right?

Now, this won’t be news to most of you, especially if you’ve read like … any of the other posts on this blog, pretty much, but my current relationship is pretty amazing. This is post is going to be pretty sappy/PDA-esque, so if that’s not your style you should probably give this one a miss.

So, first of all: we met because my friend Iona saw a picture of him (on Tinder, no less) and, at a glance, thought he was me. Excited at the prospect of having a doppelgänger, I had a sneaky peak at his Instagram page (it was listed on the Tinder screenshot Iona sent me, shh) and found that not only was he similar to me in appearance and in Portsmouth, but he was also genderfluid and pansexual and even called himself a ‘pop punk princess’ while I was calling myself a ‘pop punk prince’, so, y’know. Destiny, right?

So I gave him a cheeky follow, just because I thought it was a neat coincidence and that he probably wouldn’t notice some Instagram rando following him. I really, genuinely didn’t think anything more would come of it, unless we maybe ran into each other around town some time. But nope! Turns out he totally noticed, shot me a message, and within a few minutes we were getting along like a house on fire and planning on meeting up to talk gender stuff. He told me he was working on his dissertation at the time, so if we did hang out it would probably only be for an hour. Which was totally fine with me, because I am a very anxious introvert and, because of that, pretty shy around new people, so an hour seemed like a perfect amount of time to dip my toes into the water of a potential new friendship.

I shot him a message later that week telling him I have a free afternoon if he’s not busy. He wasn’t, so we plan to meet up at a tea shop near the Uni building we both have classes in. We spent ten minutes not sure where the other one was, because I was waiting outside to see if I could catch him going in and he was already inside waiting, and then he bought me lunch (Subway, because Subway is good and delicious and I fell in love instantly) and we go hang out.

Remember how I said he told me he could only hang out for an hour? An hour flew by. Then two. Then three. We wandered around town, hung out at the common, got drinks, and all the while we were just shooting the shit as if we’d known each other forever. Eventually, we wound up back at mine to watch some stand-up, I made him dinner, and we spent our evening snuggled up in my bed. Purely platonically. Because we were good platonic friends. That’s it. (Pff.)

Umby didn’t leave my flat until 2 in the morning, and that was only because I kicked him out so I could sleep. Honestly, if I hadn’t been so tired (and if I actually had room for him to sleep over), we probably would’ve just hung out all night.

Now, I really should have known things weren’t going to stay platonic when I realised I’d never clicked with someone so instantly before in my life (except maybe Nea, but Nea and me weren’t snuggling in bed within a few hours of first meeting), and also when I found myself missing him the second he walked out the door and was like, oh, I’m in trouble.

So, obviously, we hang out a ton more over the next few weeks. I practically move into his house, I hang out at the library while he’s working late shifts at the café there, we’re hardly ever out of each other’s sight (all while he was still trying to work on his dissertation, poor thing. He still got it in on time, at least). Things were still very much in platonic-friend-territory, and I was trying not to think about the slowly-creeping crush that kept whispering in my ear about how cute he was and how nice it felt to be snuggled up with him and how I wouldn’t mind doing that, like, forever.

And then he told me he had a crush on me, and I was like, Oh, I Am In Trouble. 

Long story short, we ended up together about two weeks after we’d first met. And two years down the line, I’m still here feeling like a smitten fifteen-year-old with a first crush. We now have a flat together after he crashed in my second-year Uni house while he searched for a job so he could stay close to me (he’s a Treasure, you guys) and we found that living together is pretty much just The Best Thing – it is seriously like having a never-ending sleepover with my best friend.

Umby is one of those rare, wonderful people who never stops making me feel like I am thoroughly appreciated and loved. He spends so much time encouraging me and letting me know that he’ll have my back through anything and everything. He makes me laugh like no-one else can. He’s my favourite person to do nothing and do everything with – for real, there are very few (if any) experiences that aren’t enhanced by having him around. He’s smart (but also like … a total fucking goof, too), he’s insanely creative and is always inspiring me, he works hard at the things he loves, and he is always doing his best to put positive energy out into the world in one way or another.

He also farts on me like, constantly (like, constantly), but I feel like that’s a small price to pay for the fact that I’m in love with someone who couldn’t be more perfect for me.

Umby, if you end up reading this: I love you like, super a lot. Thank you so much for everything we’ve shared in the past two years, and I can’t wait for what comes next. You’re my favourite ❤



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