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Memoir Blast — Love

 

Memoir Blast — Love

Love — The Moment Everything Tilted

When I first saw Rich, I was sitting at the garden table in my mum’s garden. He came through the side gate. He flicked his hair and sniffed — that little signature move he always had.

My brother walked in before him, and then Rich followed, and I thought: Oh my God. There is the man of my literal dreams.

What a beautiful boy. We were twenty. Courtney was on my lap. And I think I actually fell off the chair — ironically — literally bowled over. Forgot myself in that moment.

Fun fact: my metal‑by‑religion‑to‑be husband was wearing a Deacon Blue top (not metal), even though my brother had just joined his metal band, so I was discombobulated on many levels.

He flicked his hair back again and gave me a smile that always weakened me. And that was love. Young love. Dream‑love. Instant‑love.

My hormonal blueprint clicked into place like it had been waiting for him.

And in the words of Twilight, he imprinted on me.

I don’t really remember much else of that day. Just the entrance. Just the hair flick, the curls. Just the smile. Just the feeling.

All consumed — and life’s trajectory changed right there, right then.

My Rockstar

Twenty‑eight years later — estrogen left the building and clarity finally walked in. Not clouded judgement. Not the hormonal blueprint that once ruled everything.

But up until then, I would have walked on water for him. Parted the sea. Covered him if a bomb had dropped. Given him every last ounce of me.

That was love as I understood it then. That was devotion built from youth, hormones, imprinting, and the story I thought my life was meant to follow.

My Raggamuffin Rockstar.

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