Four months earlier, I would have got a new job and taken up a seat at the desk next to Patrick's. He would ask me if I was a Buddhist as I had a book by the Dalai Lama on my desk. (Answer: no.)
Three months earlier, I would think that Patrick was very strange. He drank green tea and had really wild curly hair. He also really annoyed me by putting a Malteser in my hot chocolate one time; now I can't remember why I found this so irritating.
Two months earlier, I had found that Patrick was the nicest person I had ever met. I still thought he was wierd, but was looking forward more and more to work every day, and started giving him lifts to and from work.
One month earlier, Patrick would buy me a bar of Fairtrade chocolate, which was unbelievably thoughtful and attentive as I spent most of our commute banging on about human trafficking charities and how I wanted to change the World, or something.
Three weeks earlier, we would be in the car. I would, for some reason, be talking about love. I would say something like 'sometimes, I guess the one for you is right in front of your eyes and you don't even know it'. I would realise at that moment that I loved Patrick. We would look at each other and away again.
Two weeks earlier, Patrick would come to an anti-trafficking meeting with me. The next day at work, he would ask me if I wanted to go and feed the swans at lunchtime. I would say yes. The swans were very aggressive and attacked a small dog in front of us. We still had a good time.
One week earlier, our friend would have a bad day at work and vent her frustration by blowing our cover. 'You obviously love each other so why don't you just get together instead of talking to me about it all the time!' she would yell in the office. Patrick and I would be mortified. He would come to my house after work and help me make a cake. We would go for a walk and I would avoid the inevitable subject for half an hour. Eventually, we would both admit that we knew that if we got together, that would be it, forever. We left it there.
Tonight, Patrick and I would be sitting on a sofa in our friend's freezing flat after a night at The Rectory pub in Purley. We would both be very nervous. Eventually, we would have our first kiss, after months of flitting about pretending we weren't absolutely besotted with each other.
Tomorrow, Patrick would sleep on the sofa at my house. We would spend every minute together from now on.
In three weeks, Patrick would tell me he loved me. I would say it back.
In two months, we would book a three-month trip to South-East Asia.
In four months, we would go on the trip.
In seven months, we would both get new jobs at a gym in Wandsworth. We don't know how to work apart.
In eight months, he would book a hot-air balloon ride and ask me to marry him. I would, of course, say yes.
In one year and five months, I would become pregnant with Esmae.
In one year and eight months, we would get married.
In two years and two months, our daughter would arrive.
An in three years exactly, I would blog about it all.