I can’t remember ever being with a man who tells me how much he loves me and wants to make me happy the way Philip does. It is a wonderful feeling. He seems totally focused on me. When we are apart he’s always phoning to tell me he loves me and to find out what I’m up to. He does seem a bit disappointed if I’m busy and forget to phone him.
He says he can’t wait till we are married and I am his for ever. He spoils me with small presents all the time. A flower, a special chocolate, a potplant, a beautiful soap. He knows my preferences for perfumes and buys me the ones of my favourites that he likes on me.
One evening when I had had a bit of time for shopping during the day, I made him shower then lie on the bed. I gave him a back massage with a relaxing massage cream I had bought. When I finished he rolled over and I could see he had been crying, he took me in his arms and made gentle and passionate love to me. He told me he has never been in love before, and that this is all he ever wants for the rest of his life.
We enjoy our time together. We both like walking so in the capital we have our favourite walk across the string of parks along the river. As the winter has deepened we have made these walks a deliberate way of ensuring we both get outside for exercise at the weekends. In my home city there is a wonderful indoor stadium where I go most days for a 10 minute walk around the track. My sports club has access for this. However Philip seems annoyed if we are there walking together and any of the men walking or running there greet me. He says he wants me with him all the time and feels jealous of those men who see me when he doesn’t.
We both enjoy music and make a point of finding the concerts and performances we will enjoy together.
We don’t really have many friends in common. Philip has to spend quite a lot of time socialising for his work, so he prefers time with just me when he can have it. So we spend most of our time together being ‘just us’.
We decided to attend an exhibition opening one evening. The poster advertising it had a beautiful painting of a young woman, slightly pregnant, and naked except for an intricately patterned shawl draped so that her extra curves were visible. Philip said that picture made him want for us to be married as he was sure I’d be even more beautiful than her when I’m pregnant. He said he’d never let me pose nude like her for some strange artist, he can’t bear the idea of some other man seeing me naked.
When we were there we both liked the man’s style. But when we got to the room with all the pictures of the pregnant woman, the artist and some young (pregnant) woman were there, kissing rather passionately. Philip muttered “Let’s not disturb them” and swept me out and off for dinner.
The next afternoon I took an hour and went back to the gallery. I went to the room we had missed and really liked some of the pictures. The one used for the poster had been sold, but there was a pencil sketch, the young pregnant woman, nude, with her head turned to one side and somewhat hidden by her hair so she looked a bit shy. I thought she looked like a Madonna, innocent with her first child. I bought it, intending to give it to Philip as my wedding present to him.