Each person has a register of moods that they transition into and out of with very specific cues and hints. When Mark is merely annoyed, he starts to push his hair out of the forehead, and his eyebrows become straighter instead of arching. When he is furious his eyes lose their brown and become black, like two black holes that suck in everything and eject rays of fury. He becomes rigid, tight, and thinner.
Conversely, to avoid giving an entirely negative description, when he is pleased and content with himself his mouth opens and he shows his teeth with big smiles, and he sits back in the chair, often with his knees apart and his foot on one knee. The arm tends to hook on the back rest. It is like he totally opens himself to the world, and welcomes everything.
My Mark smiles a lot more than he shoots death-rays with his eyes, that’s true, but after two years you learn to spot the transitions, and can read him like a book. So, when he is transitioning into being sad, his head starts to droop, as if it’s too heavy for his neck. His shoulders slump, and his movements are more sloppy than his usually precise motions.
And that was the thing I met this morning, Mr Droopy-head that is withdrawing into some misery of his own.I’ll have to drag the cause out of him during the day, but I have to try not to do it too much. Otherwise he’ll transition into the annoyed state. And from there, the death-ray eyes could deploy.
I had a good laugh about the news today since the coalition government of this country, once more, showed how out of touch they are with reality. A professor suggested that Britain ought to consider harmonising the age of consent with the rest of Europe, a suggestion that brought the expected dismissals and umbrage from the right.
I keep thinking back to the fact that a mere six months separate me from the current state of marital bliss and the sex offender lists. I met Mark in August in 2011, and I was sixteen years and six months. My birthday is March 21st. Had he, or I, been under sixteen, we would have committed crimes during those first days of our time together.
I think that for both of us, neither expected what happened later. That first week before the first tuggings of the heart started, and the first queasy feelings at the bottom of my tummy, it was all about indulging our horny natures. It was not more than that.
But how much different were we from our six-seven month younger selves? I don’t think we were mentally or physically or emotionally different – not so different as to motivate why either of us should be accused of sexual assault on each other, which the law and the ambitious prosecutor could have levelled against us.
So, the adult dismissal of age of consent harmonisation is funny, because it just shows how the older adults live in a fantasy world when it comes to teenagers and sex. Have they forgotten entirely how they themselves were? So, but for a mere chance of being on the right side of a few months, we are enjoying what we have, instead of being serious offenders in the eyes of the law.
Between writing the first segment of this post and the second, I learned why my Mark was so down. Yesterday his parents took him aside and said that in September they would have to sell this house because it was getting difficult to make ends meet over in Wiltshire. When even people like Mark’s parents admit to struggling economically, you know things are bad.
By selling the house, they will be able to reduce their mortgages substantially. While they did half-promise that they wouldn’t sell until we got our BAs, things have obviously changed. And that’s why Mark is sad, because he loves this house.
I have a practical view, and it doesn’t affect me much, but this is Mark’s childhood home, and I think he may have hoped that he could stay for a lot longer. It breaks me in pieces to see him sad, so I’m going to have to spend the day trying to cheer him up somehow. I mean, we’re together. This is something we’ll face together. I love that man too much to not carry him for a bit.