I was the girl who knew absolutely nothing about computers and he was the guy who knew everything about them. We were put into ICT skills lessons together. Why he was tasked to do skills lessons in the area he was clearly flying in is still a mystery to me. But they were compulsory to everyone so he had no choice. I was way out of my depth. I barely knew how to power on my trusty old Toshiba laptop, let alone complete the tasks set on the worksheets by our teacher. She quickly figured this out and, one Friday afternoon when I was desperate for my Gmail account to be linked to my laptop, she set this super smart guy the task. To his credit, he didn’t complain once. To begin with, he told me what I needed to do. Go to this place, that setting, enter that etc. But I had no idea what keys to press let alone these unknown parts of my computer he wanted access to. Tiring of my inability in the area he was so competent, he slid the laptop out from under my hands, pulled my earphones out of the socket and plugged in his own. His fingers tapped crazily fast over the keyboard and less than an hour later, by the time our lesson finished, my Gmail was up and running smoothly.
That’s how it started. After that, whenever I had any difficulty with my laptop. Which was practically every lesson, the smart lad who knew it all would be told to sit beside me and “help” me. He helped me, that’s for sure, by taking the bloody machine out from under my hands and fixing the problem. In fact, the teacher knew he knew so much and that the tasks set to the rest of us were pointless for him that she basically set him the task of teaching me how to use a computer. Whether he wanted to or not, he had no choice. In the end, though, if he hadn’t sat in the seat beside me at the beginning of the lesson, by the end of it he’d have wheeled his chair over next to mine, usually to fix something minor on my PC, but sometimes to talk to me. By the spring term, he didn’t sit anywhere but next to me and he didn’t do any of the tasks we were supposed to, just Fixing everything I needed fixing, showing me how to do things I needed to know how to do. But more than that, by the spring term, he’d become my friend, a friend I looked forward to spending time with, a friend who would bring BBQ Pringles down to my college room on a Tuesday night as payment for us to have him there. Not that he knew, but that was far from necessary. As well as being my IT buddy, he was Josh’s media pal. They’d struck up a proper friendship before I even knew who he was and it was already clear to me, before I even realised it, that this lad was going to be hanging around a lot.
And he did. 4 and a half years later, he’s more than the best friend I’ve ever had. Two years ago today, in a hotel room in RNC’s Gardner Hall, we changed our lives without even knowing it. It had been his 19th birthday and Josh and I had travelled up by train to see him. Oh how excited I was! I hadn’t seen him since october when he’d got his special Cisco award. I’d been the proudest best friend in all the world that night, listening to them up on stage promising him the world and explaining to the audience how much he’d achieved. He was amazing, and gobsmacked apparently. But it all started way before that night in Gardner, when poor Josh was feeling so ill from all the fast food and fizzy drink we’d consumed. It started long long before anyone else knew it did, in our first year in fact. It started just before I got engaged to another. Not anything serious or that makes me a terrible person. Just a feeling that this IT guy was someone special, someone important who deserved the world. But he wanted a girlfriend. So I tasked myself to finding one, wondering why on earth I was doing it. But I did it anyway. He was happy for a little while, until he wasn’t and he was sobbing on my shoulder. From that day onward, we were friends, really friends. It seemed I’d repaid him for all the IT support, not that I ever could.
Then there was the summer term of that first year, full of sunshine and laughter. Friday afternoon and the three of us running through the college campus, the boys singing MCFly or Busted and me laughing so hard, wondering how I’d managed to get such amazing friends as these. Then, the Friday before the May half term and my 17th birthday, he came to me with a box of Maltesers. Despite the rules, we sat in our weekly Friday afternoon IT session that week and scuffed our way through the whole box.
The second year brought changes for us all, four became three when our sister from another mister had to go to a place none of us could get to. The only thing that kept us in touch was the letters, oh how we wrote them, on the bright yellow paper in size 36 bold font. He and I were feeling the harshness of long distance relationships, mine almost a year old and his barely begun. But it gave us a further connection. We spent many an evening complaining about distance. If only we’d known then! And Josh, poor Johs, received the backlash of most of my misery of being at college; because everyone knew it was the last place on earth I wanted to be. And yet the both took it, Josh retaliating as much as he could manage and our loyal friend staying with us both through it all, even when we weren’t talking to each other. He could have told me to get lost, god knows he should have, but he never.
We spent Saturday and Sunday mornings, of course way after 10am, sleepily drinking cups of tea. He’d make sausage sandwiches on the George foreman or I’d put fish fingers in the oven and we’d have them in sandwiches. Or if we were feeling brave, we’d go to the college canteen and have a risky cooked breakfast there. Many afternoons, we’d be in my college room, him sprawled out on my bed and me sat at my desk, his IPod on shuffle, complaining about distance, the bad food, the rubbish water pressure in the showers. Many many Friday and Saturday night the three of us spent in one of our rooms, eating takeaway and watching some kind of comedy. We met up every lunchtime, forming a little queue Josh then him then me, noting the awful radio station playing and waiting to take our lunch of a jacket potato with rubbery cheese and not enough beans, if we were lucky. We celebrated each other’s birthdays, ate each other’s food and generally loved each other’s company, even if Josh and I were arguing.
But I was waiting to leave and that last day didn’t come soon enough in my opinion. That last Friday, I wore my T-shirt the boys had bought me for my 18th, a bright yellow thing, in homage to Imi’s bright paper, bearing the phrase “shiny happy people” which had been our group nickname for a long while, since his dad made a comment that stuck. I went through the day, saying all my goodbyes and regretting that I hadn’t appreciated this more, had been in such a rush to go home to my fiancé. After I’d left my last lesson, IT, we all got ready and headed to Hereford’s branch of Yates where we ate good food, chatted about all the fun we’d had and took our final college photo together, in which my shiny happy people T-shirt is proudly displayed. Then, when we were back at college, after the boys had paid for my meal insistently, the snuck duvets and pillows into my big C floor room and bedded down on them, using blankets to keep warm. It was our little sleepover, our last night, our final time of being the shiny happy people, students at the royal national college for the blind together. I was leaving and it was too late to change my mind. But as I lay there in my bed, talking to those boys about anything and everything that had happened in those last eighteen months, I really wish I could have. Right then, I wasn’t desperate to be home with my fiancé. Right then, I wanted to pause time and not let tomorrow come. The only thing that was missing, that would have added sparkle to our night, was Imi. But we’d fixed that by catching a train to York and spending her 18th birthday with her.
Then, Saturday morning had arrived, my parents and fiancé were there, all the belongings I’d been packing into bags for the last eighteen months were packed into the boot of the car for the last time and I was saying my last two goodbyes. Josh, I was sure I’d see again. We lived in the same city. But the other one, he who’d become the best friend I’d ever had, he who’d fixed all my problems, been by my side through everything those last two years, he who’d held me when I cried and laughed the loudest with me. I wasn’t sure. He was from the north, after all, and I the south. So as I hugged him goodbye the tightest, I wondered for the millionth time that morning why I’d been in such a hurry to leave.As we drove away, me wondering if we’d ever have times like those again and if I’d be able to see my best friend again, two text messages came through on my phone, one from each of the boys, both telling me how much my friendship meant to them, how they were sad I’d left and that they missed me already. But his was the one that had me secretly wiping tears away, that had me saving it in my notes to look back on. It was the loveliest sweetest most thoughtful message he’d ever sent me. And in that moment I knew we had to keep in touch, he’d begged me to in the message, and see each other again.
And we did. In September that year, he sent me a text message, another one, that was to change our friendship irreversibly, that changed all my future plans, everything I’d based my life on. The text simply read: “Can I tell you something?” And so I replied, “Of course”. And so he did. That I was lovely and that, despite everything, his feelings were more than friendly. I knew he was with his parents at the caravan and that he’d had a few to drink. It was late on a Saturday night and I was with my fiancé and his mum at theirs. I needed him to be 100% sure about what he was saying before he said it. So I told him thank you but that we should talk in the morning if, then, he wanted to continue the conversation. He did. We did. He told me that he’d felt that way sometime but that of course I was engaged and happy and he didn’t want this to change our friendship, he just wanted me to know. And I knew. In my response, I told him so. I told him, if it was allowed to love two people at once, then I undoubtedly did. But I told him he needed someone better, a good person who could give him the whole world. I told him he deserved happiness like no one else I knew. But that of course that person couldn’t be me. And he said he understood and would we still be friends. Of course we would, I told him, there was no way I was letting him go. But that afternoon I had Imi on the phone. I’d told her in frantic texts what had happened. She clearly thought I was mad. She knew things I hadn’t acknowledged yet. She knew I loved him without me even having to confirm it. But I told her I was happy, had plans and wasn’t changing anything. I told her he and I would remain friends, best friends. But she didn’t believe a word of it. And deep down, neither did I.
Then october came, his award, the happiness. But the awkwardness too. We hadn’t seen each other since he told me “something” but we’d been quite in touch, calling regularly, him fixing my many IT problems so regularly we were hardly not in touch. We’d been texting daily, more than we ever had before. When he’d returned to college as a mature student in September, my only feelings were hope for him to be amazing and being gutted, utterly gutted, I couldn’t be there with him.
And of course, then January 8th arrived. Our train ride to Hereford, our reunion, his birthday. It was amazing, so good to see each other again, so good having all three of us together again, the shiny happy people reunited. We ate fish and chips like we used to many Fridays after IT, we gave presents and we went to their bar. That was where everything changed. Imi, who had gotten thoroughly frustrated with my situation, as I’d been increasingly more miserable since September, had me agreeing to send messages that changed us. That Sunday, after tearful hugs goodbye and promising I’d sort everything, I was on a train home with Josh in a whirlwind. And 2 days later everything was sorted, although not nicely, but sorted. And we were a couple. He my fella.
Now we’re here, 2 years on to the day we rearranged everything. It’s been a crazy two years, but the best two years. We couldn’t have expected it to be this good. I never expected to be this lucky. We’ve had many date nights, watched countless movies and comedies and TV shows. We’ve bought mountains of presents, train and plane tickets. I left college never even thinking I’d see him again, let alone dreaming I’d have stayed at his parents’ house as his girlfriend 5 times. But I have. That guy who walked into IT and continues to fix my never ending tech problems has changed my whole world. And I couldn’t give a toss what anyone else thinks. I don’t care if this is soppy or cliché or too much. I don’t care who reads it. Because I love him. He is, undoubtedly, the best friend I will and have ever had. He is kind and smart and funny and all the things I’ve ever dreamed of in a partner. He puts up with me when I’m miserable or grumpy. He puts up with my stupidity with computers and has done far longer than anyone else ever has. He treats me like a princess even if he doesn’t know it. And he is all I’ve ever wanted. He makes me the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m prouder of all his achievements than I’ve ever been of anything. We’ve had our moments in these last two years but thankfully there haven’t been many and we’ve always fixed things. I believe we always will. And I’m not an idiot; I of all people know couples have their problems, their differences. But he’s been there for me through absolutely everything. He supports me always, especially when he knows I’m wrong. He’s taught me so much, least of all the use of a computer how he was tasked so long ago. He makes me smile when no one else can and makes things better when everyone else can’t. He gives me strength at the worst times and praise at the best times. He, without even meaning to I think, has become my rock. I can rely on him whenever I need and he almost always has the answer. We may be 8 miles under 300 miles apart most of the time but he is always with me and despite how difficult distance is, and believe me when I say it is, its worth it for what we have. And it always will be. He always will be.
Kieran what more can I say. You’ve been my fella a long time and my best friend even longer. I will always support you in the choices you make and am here for you should ever you need me. I love you more than I can say and am so glad I took a chance on us. You’re the best risk I nearly didn’t take and I will never regret how we did things, however much of a mess I made at the start. We’ve had the best first two years and I’m betting on many, many more. But even if we don’t, you’ll always be my best friend, the one who fixed everything before I even knew it was broken with one simple text message. Well, my person, can I tell you something? I love you. I loved you then, love you still; always have, always will. Thank you for the best times. Thank you for the hopes and dreams. I’m looking forward to it all. You are my army, fighting my corner always, and I will only ever be one call away, still falling for you. Happy two years.