I'm a Hopeless Romantic

One of the earliest enquiries I remember making my mother was to ask her, who will I marry one day? What will she be like? What will my responsibilities be as her husband? Yes, even at the age of six, I was looking to plot my future and trying to chart a way through. I always wanted a family of my own and, seeing as I couldn't magically manufacture one all by myself, I wanted to get a head start on finding my perfect partner.

Even from the earliest times I can remember, whether it was Dorothy Gale telling me about a land Over the rainbow, or Pinocchio suggesting I Wish upon a star, I soon realised that I was not the only one hunting for that one perfect person to complement me perfectly and make all my dreams come true. I took my job in this regard very seriously. I think I was still in kindergarten when I got my first kiss from one of those gross creatures that people refer to as girls. It took me a while to warm up to the idea that sugar and spice and all things nice wasn't just code for ewww, that's disgusting!

A course, these feelings of revulsion were soon supplanted by feelings of ... I don't know what it is about you, but I want to spread you over a slice of toast with my breakfast. Or was it ... drizzle you over my Coco Pops? Whatever it was, girls suddenly held the promise of delights untold, things that adults only whispered about and suggested that I would also know one day when I grew up.

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