Warning: Extreme Sentimentality Ahead

I've always found that certain times of the month turns me into a contradictory cocktail of irritability and sentimentality. Not a fun combination. Funny, for those around me that aren't the target of it, though.

And so I'm sat here, watching one of my favourite episodes of Charmed (season two's Heartbreak City) and feeling maudlin. As much as the character of Phoebe annoyed me during the latter episodes, in the earlier ones, growing up I had a lot in common with her: she changed her hair a lot, she was the baby of the bunch, she didn't know where she was going in life and ended up at university (studying psychology, which I once had an interest in until I realised that I sucked at it), and even though she appeared fearless, she was afraid of the greatest thing of all. Love.

I love my family, and I love some of my friends, but I've always found it hard to let guys in. Growing up in an all-female household they were like some weird alien species to me, and it took me a long time to be able to open up to them and not just view them as something shiny with a six pack.

When I was seventeen, I fell in love. He was my best friend, and to be quite honest, he was a complete douche bag too. One minute he was flirting with me and couldn't wait to see me, and the next minute he'd rather hit on my best friend (or anything else that wasn't me) and make out with her behind my back. Given that they were both my best friends, you would've thought that they'd realise just what they were doing to me, but they didn't care. They were both selfish attention whores, and to be honest, I should've known better.

It took me a really long time to get over not being good enough for him, and I went through a few more (short-lived) douche bags before I met the guy I'm with now. When he first came into my life, I never expected him to stick around. Everyday I was expecting him to stop texting, stop talking, decide that he wanted someone better. But he never does. He wants me. And for the girl who grew up with a cold-heart and thought that she was destined to be alone, it's still a weird feeling, almost eight months later. But I'm not complaining. We know that we're not perfect and that we have our issues, but who doesn't? What matters is that we love each other, and as the old cliche goes: love conquers all.