the three month curse...

It’s a boring Monday night, I’ve dragged myself to the gym against all my better judgement and have just got home to a chilled bottle of wine, a comfy sofa and a chat with the flatmate.

“So, how’s Maaaarrrrk?” She teases.

Rolling my eyes at her childish tone while suppressing the bubble of butterflies at the mention of his name, I sigh and reply “he’s fine Jo…now shhh and pour me a glass.”

“How long has it been now?” she presses with a wry smile.

“Errrrm…” I wrinkle my nose and pretend to figure it out, even though I know to the exact day. “Three months on Sunday.” And then add, “I think.” So I look nonchalant about the whole thing.

Mark is younger than I am. A lot younger. By about five years… I know, I know. In my defence - and not that this would hold up in court – I started to like him before I knew his age, and he doesn’t look 23 years old. *Cringe. I hate saying his age aloud and I hate it when he shaves because then he really does look younger than me!

“Ah, three months…” interjects Grace, our fellow Monday night wino. “The make or break time.”

What the f…!? The 'make or break time'? This is new to me, I have never heard this rule before.

“Yep,” she continues, “most of my friends find that it’s around the three month mark that it all starts to crumble.” She’s watching her wine swirl around her glass, oblivious to the look of horror now firmly on my face.

Cue a huge range of questions scrambling like crazy around my brain.
Oh. Em. Gee. Mark and I are hitting three months! I need to do something, make a decision, test him, analyse him, dump him, marry him. I need to do something.

I opt for my personal favourite, analyse him.

He never shared that last spring roll on Friday night, and he took a while to text back the other day, and he cancelled on me on Sunday claiming sunstroke (pah!)…. hmm though he did call that night to chat. But then, he never made plans to meet up on Monday night. Yes but he did (sweetly) go and pick up a few things for me from Argos and paid for them (crap got to pay that back.) but then he didn't….

“Steph.” Jo barks. “You and Mark are fine, stop looking for things to go wrong.” It’s as if she can read my mind. Humph.

Now it's out there, like a guillotine hanging over my analytical head, the three month make or break rule . Let’s see what Sunday brings shall we...