By Kate Neilson
I'm convinced it's because of you that all of my relationships have been burdened, heavy and short lived. You pigeon-holed me into a life of bad dating karma at the age of six, but how could I resist those glaring baby blues and your milky blonde hair (I'm so sure you would have grown up to be a hot surfer).
Declan was my friend. He and I used to play together, in an extremely plutonic manner...well at least it was from my end of things. Declan was messy and curly, just like me, but these weren't qualities that I deemed appropriate for my pre-school husband. I deserved someone who ran a comb through their hair, someone who removed their nose boogers with a tissue instead of their finger. I deserved James.
However, there was a barrier in my way, my friend Anne who was prettier than I, smarter than I and much, much blonder than I. We were friends, I did like her, but I can definitely pin-point my feelings of jealousy towards other women to my relationship with Anne.
Anne and James were always 'Mum and Dad' in our make believe games. I was usually their daughter, and sometimes their dog. I guess my shaggy hair was an apt feature for this. I craved the opportunity to be your wife, even for just one day but you always chose fucking Anne.
Declan, the sweet thing, could sense my dismay. He was a good dude and thought that maybe I could be his wife instead? He proposed the idea one morning, along with a gift that he had made for me while he was at home. It was a tissue box, covered in glitter, magazine clippings and connecta-texta scribblings. It was a jewellery box, he said. Probably the sweetest gift that I have ever received from a man (boy) to date.
Even then, as a child, I felt an odd sense of guilt for potentially leading you on and even though you were the nicest boy at pre-school (and if I met you now I'd probably lock you down for a night of hot, tender sex) it was James who I desired. I too your gift politely and slowly separated myself from you over the coming weeks. What bloody good did that do? Nothing I tell you. James didn't care for me like you did, he never would and I should have known better for going after the pre-school stud.
So I'm sorry Declan, you were probably the one for me and fuck you James for not being able to see through a girl with grubby knees and curly hair.