My mum suggested that I started a blog about my own thoughts on dealing with a loved ones cancer, as a mental exercise. After a bit of consideration I have decided that it may not be such a bad idea. If nothing else, it may help me to figure out what the hell is actually going through my head.
So let me introduce myself.
I am 23 years old, I have spent my entire childhood in Copenhagen in a very well-functioning and happy home with two younger brothers and a large extended family. In my teenage years I followed the traditional education route and spend my free time singing in multiple girls choirs and hanging out with friends, as any good young girl would do.
Then 4 years ago I decided that I wanted to do something different and exciting. I wanted to gain some experience and independence, but more than anything I think I just wanted to live some Hogwarts-wannabe fairytale life. So I applied at Oxford University, thinking that that was as close as it got. I wanted to escape all the drama and bitchiness and insecurities that comes with any teenage girl's life. Surely everybody at Oxford must be incredibly intelligent and charming and sweet. I don't think it was really until I stood with the offer from the university in my hand, that I realised studying at Oxford meant moving to England.
In reality the move to Oxford was one of the biggest, most overwhelming events in my still relatively short life. I was absolutely mortified before I left, thinking that I was going to lose my entire family, friends and Danish boyfriend. The first weeks were a complete blur to me.
And I'm not gonna lie: year 1 at university was hard. After 20 years in a happy and safe environment, you need to grow some guts to stand on your own two feet. One thing you should know about me is, that the people who are close to me mean the world to me. I take a long time making friends and getting close to people, but once I let them in, they become extremely important pillars of my existence. Moving away from every pillar that I knew was extremely difficult.
But it was also an amazing experience to see how I slowly, over the first year or so, created a version of myself, who was independent enough to make it on my own. Making a few really good friends over time made me feel more at home in Oxford, and when my long-distance boyfriend broke up with me I was initially heartbroken, but ultimately it made me more independent and gave me the freedom to be happy far away from my past home.
And then in May, 2 years ago, something incredible and unexpected happened. I fell in love with a friend and neighbour of mine, let's call him F.
F and I we'd known each other since day one of uni. He was one of those friendly faces that you just always enjoy bumping into, and that you seem to never run out of things to talk about. We were not best friends, not at all, and there was not the slightest romantic tension between us: we were both dating other people and just enjoyed each other's company, when we happened to come across.
In out 2nd year, we lived right next to each other on campus, and hence got to know each other better. But still, we were just friends. I never ever saw it coming!
Until one day in the spring, months after both of us had become single (years in my case). One day I realised, to my own big surprise, that I was jealous of him talking to another girl. I realised that I needed to be special to him in some way.
It took 4 months after that before we were actually officially dating. And I am completely to blame for that, I was being such a pain in the ass to him: not sure of exactly how I felt, wanting to be special to him, but not wanting to commit to anything serious either. It was the weirdest summer I have ever experienced. At one point he even flew over to visit me in Copenhagen, where I was staying with my parents, just because I told him I missed him. He was introduced to my parents as a friend, but I'm sure they realised that "friends" don't buy a last minute flight when the timing is at its worst, just because they can't stand to be apart..
Yes, I know that I was giving him a hard time with all my half-commitment wishes. But at the same time I woke up every morning a little bit more in love with him, than I'd been the day before! And by the end of the summer I was so completely in love with this guy that it just seemed like I finally had my fairytale of living in an exotic country, studying at a fancy university, and dating an absolutely incredible young man!
And to some degree I guess the fairytale has never ended. I am still living in an exotic country, still studying at a fancy university. And F and I, we're good together! We're really good together. The longer we have been dating, the more I have come to appreciate how many good qualities he has, that you don't immediately see. How romantic and sensitive he can be, even though he doesn't show that to all his friends. How much you can trust him, when you really get to know him. How much he cares about me, and makes me feel loved.
We have got so many little things, me and F. And I am going to tell you, cause I need you to understand just how important he is to me!
He is the kind of guy, who will stand and hold around my waist while I stir the sauce on the stove. He will lean his head on top of mine, cause yes, he is a whole head taller than me. He will kiss my hair and call me silly over some strange little thing that I did. Oh, he knows all my odd and weird sides, and he loves me for not being so boring and plain. It is so refreshing to be able to just say whatever shit comes out of your mouth, without worrying that he is going to find me uncharming.
He is the kind of guy who gets proud when he can teach me some little thing, but not too proud to be insulted when I can teach him something back.
He and I will get into ridiculous arguments about what kind of milk our future kids should drink, or in which order stuff goes into the pan. We will both stand our ground so firmly, endlessly stubborn, that the arguments can keep going for months, even years. But they are good arguments. They are the kind where you love disagreeing because you would never want the other part to back down and give in. They're fun, they make us laugh and love each other more.
And he will know it if ever I get upset. He can see it on my face. Whether it is something he has caused, or it was brought on by external reasons: he will sense the moodiness on my face, and he will keep asking me to tell him what's bothering me. Which is exactly what I need. I often try to hide things that upset me but are not his fault, cause I don't want to bother him with my own stuff, particularly not at the moment. But he sees right through me. He makes me open up and talk about it all, and he comforts me and cheers me up every single time. He pouts his mouth and repeatedly gives me the lightest kisses, all the while making some 19th century rich snob expression, until I laugh and smile again.
He agrees with me that you should never have a dinner meal without some vegetables on the side, yet he always tells me to just go ahead and have that one more cookie, telling me that I look so fit and attractive to him that he would never guess I ate any cookies at all.
He tells me to just sit down and look pretty while he does all the cleaning up.
He says so many little romantic things, and does so many little romantic gestures, and is just so naturally good at being an amazing boyfriend.
And he makes it so easy for me to be a good girlfriend. It is easy to make little surprises and sweet gestures for him, cause he gets so happy when I do. It's easy to be reasonable and listen to his side of the story without getting upset, because he never does anything really inconsiderate. And it's easy to believe that he still loves me when we're apart, or he's busy doing something else.
Yeah, we're good my F and I.
He's one of the best things that ever happened to me, he's one of the only people on this planet who really understands me, and he's one of the few that I really really love!