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mason and i had been dating for the past eight months, but we had never once had the conversation about going public without one of us going in a mood afterwards. it was getting to the point where i just wanted to shout from the rooftops that we were together.
i wanted to post about our relationship online, i wanted to support him at his games instead of at home, i wanted to sport his shirt whenever i had the chance to and i just wanted to go out with him without having to worry about getting caught.
we hadn't been on many public dates, just a couple when we first started seeing each other, all of the other times would be in the comfort of our home. i loved the fact that we had the time and space for ourselves and that he didn't have to worry about getting stopped by fans but eight months in, all i wanted was to go for a meal or do something that normal couples could do.
the first time we met was at one of his games in october when we ran into each other at the end of the game. i tried to act as normal as i could after bumping into one of my favourite players on my favourite team, but it was as if he could magically tell because with one glance at my shirt, he let out a few chuckles; slowly but surely making me feel more comfortable around him. we was stood in the car park for a good fourty-five minutes talking about anything and everything, laughing at each other's jokes that weren't even remotely funny and just having a good time before he realised that he had to leave.
but him being in a rush to get home didn't stop him getting my number that night, he had asked for my phone and i was skeptical but i still gave in and once i got it back from him, i realised that he had put his number in my contacts. i remember calling him smooth as he walked towards his car with a smirk on his face, hearing him laugh at what i said, before getting in my polo and making my own way home, mesmerised at the fact that a footballer wanted my number.
he messaged me the following morning, the message going unknown for an hour or two whilst i was working, but it was him. he wanted to know if he could take me out that evening and of course i replied back to him, apologising for the late reply and telling him that i would love to go out with him. we had messaged back and forth throughout the day, sending memes and random videos of dogs that we knew the other would enjoy, which we did.
he picked me up at seven, dramatically opening the door for me like the true gentleman he wanted to be, us both joking about with it, and he took us to an italian restaurant but he seated us in a back corner where we couldn't be seen by the public eye; and i understood why he did it but my suspicions grew bigger when he did the same thing the second and third time. i began to question whether he was ashamed to be seen on dates with me because i'm not an instagram model, i don't have the perfect body and i wasn't the type that footballers would typically go for.
we became official on our third date.
after that, the dates in public stopped. the secret kisses that we shared at any given chance stopped. the hand holding as we walked through the streets of london at night gradually stopped. anything that couples did in public, we stopped doing them.
