Staff writer - Maria Costa
The girl is always supposed to be the ‘pretty’ one in the relationship, right?
When I first met Mr.Caribbean, I was on holiday and our eyes literally locked from a distance, followed by a swagger and a point in my direction ”You’re beautiful!” He proclaimed with palpable conviction.
I smiled whilst simultaneously thinking ”Erm…actually, I think it’s you who’s the beautiful one”. (A thought I kept to myself, naturally). With his soft eyes, petite nose and full sensuous lips (I would later refer to them as my ‘pillows’), I thought he was stunning – and my body agreed with my mind.
I found myself on the unfamiliar territory of being intimidated by my boyfriend’s beauty. I mean, sure I could scrub up well but like many girls, I needed ‘stuff’ to look the way I did when he had met me (and that ‘stuff’ wasn’t permanent) whereas Mr.Caribbean looked the same all.of.the.time. (Man, I hated it).
What could I do? I daren’t tell any of my friends for fear of appearing superficial and insecure so instead, I set the wheels of operation in to motion.
I would begin by sleeping with my make up on (If I listen carefully, I almost hear a thousand dermatologists scream) and avoid sleeping on the pillow with my hair carefully placed behind me. A plan which worked until that dreaded moment when I turned up to see him and he had prepared a romantic bath for us both.
My smile did its best to cease betraying my sinking stomach. All I could envisage was frizzy hair, make up washed off and me as natural as the day I was born. Well, almost.
My mind went into overdrive, conjuring up a myriad of excuses not to but they all dissipated when I saw his damn cute face and I gently immersed myself in the
Comfortable in my own skin..."
moment – and the bath tub.
I was right of course; my make up had completely come off, my hair was au naturel and the goosebumps all over my body betrayed the fact that I was freezing. Suddenly Mr.Caribbean carefully moved the hair away from my face and draped a soft towel around me. His face was so close to mine, but it wasn’t a moment for a kiss. It was a moment to smile.
”Baby. You look so beautiful when you smile”.
Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t but that night, I slept on Mr.Caribbean’s chest and when I woke up, I had his imprint on my face and his hands in my hair. And I never felt happier.
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