If someone asked me who the love of my life was, it would be the one that I’ve been waiting 15 years for. That’s how long my infatuation has lasted. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for him to realise that I am the one. But he knows all this, and isn’t in the slightest bit interested. It’s emotionally painful and challenging, and my resolve never weakens, but I know that it was never meant to be. I console myself with the things that are wrong about him. He is tall, blonde and lanky and everybody says that he has a tiny dick. He can be quite nasty. He spends money he probably doesn’t have. He is disorganised and incredibly untidy. And there’s the annoyance that everything is handed to him on a plate. A relationship would never have worked, and this one-sided love is best left unfulfilled. But despite all these flaws, love can be irrational, broken but still loved.