Let me tell you a story about love…
A child once said: “Isn’t it good for the American’s and gay pride?” The negative reply from a divorced woman: “Well I don’t know if I believe in marriage. Straight people have been getting it wrong for years why follow suit?” Out of the mouths of babes: “Well they might have a better chance because two girls or two boys have more in common.” I love how children think…
But once upon a time there was a divorced woman. Who was full of dismay and anger. She didn’t think that she would ever love again. I think it was safe to say that she was emotionally unavailable. Emotionally unavailable until she met the love of her life.
I wish I’d met him sooner.
I met my boyfriend on a rare night out after three years as a single parent. As you can see from my previous blog posts. I experienced a frantic few years and was on the desperate need for some sort of security for my children. I suppose that desperate need for security meant that I wasn’t desperate for love.
I told myself. Love was not going to happen to me. Love involves too much trust and far too much energy. I guess it just wasn’t the right time until that night out. A night out involving 70’s fancy dress and a few too many drinks with some female friends of mine. I wasn’t even going to go out that night but it was a friend’s special birthday and I thought I really should make the effort. Obviously I’m glad I did.
For six months my life had been decorating a sparse home of which I was sleeping on a mattress in a carpetless and pretty shoddy room. I would go to work, come home and decorate in between cooking the children’s tea. It was a time when my energy levels were extremely low as my immune system weakened and I became riddled with inflammation and anaemia. My knees became extremely swollen and so did my wrists and I was weak in my body. My weight plummeted to 8 stone. For me, 8 stone is not a healthy weight. I know that when I’m 8 stone that I am sick. I was eating like a horse but not gaining weight due to running on adrenaline.
But that night I stuck on a little black dress, pretty tiara, silver belt and white go go boots. Picked up a fake microphone, my purse and off I went out for a night out. If you had told me that I would go out that night and meet a special person. I would have laughed. “Meet somebody on the town!” No way was I meeting somebody on the town. Not in the town I lived. I told myself that I would probably meet somebody at a night course or something when the children were older. (Don’t get me wrong I had dated during my three years single) Somebody who had the same interests as me. But I was not meeting somebody on a drunken girly night on the town. But the unexpected happened. I met somebody on the town. My one night out in nine months and I met somebody on the town.
I was sat having a drink, resting my knees. My mate looked absolutely fabulous in her flared catsuit and she was stood up drinking and raring to go. When she was approached by a male. A male in 70’s fancy dress wearing a dark wig, but he was not in our party. Naturally at the time it struck up conversation. At the time I was feeling a little glazed from pain and wondering how long it would be until the night ended. I wasn’t feeling the life and soul of the party. I wanted to go home and paint some shelves. That was until a tall man came strutting over, wearing flaired jeans, open top shirt and a dodgy blonde quiffy wig. He was heading forward, turned his head to the side, spotted me sat on a chair, did an obvious double take (it must have been my sparkling tiara) and swivelled ninety degrees on his heals. The silly conversation and banter began as he asked me to guess what colour his hair was under the wig. I kept thinking. Wow… what amazing blue eyes. I’d never seen blue eyes like it. They were so distinctive and he was just bouncing around full of energy. He asked if I wanted to go outside as he wanted to smoke. I found myself following him like a little puppy dog.
Outside the pub he was just full of energy and life. I couldn’t help but just constantly laugh at his silliness as I tried to guess the colour of his hair. I looked at his eyes. “You’ve got to be blonde.” I said. He looked disappointed like I’d come up with the wrong answer. “It’s dog shit brown.” He said. He was smoking, pacing around, saying he couldn’t pull because he always found that he enjoyed himself too much then the next minute the night was over. I found him quite endearing as us ladies do. I wanted to take him into the pub and prove that actually if he tried he could pull. I laugh now at his tactic. He could certainly pull if he tried. He is not backwards in coming forward. However, like me he’d made a choice that he wasn’t going to. He was holding out until he met the right woman. Somebody worth making the effort for. I have since been told by many that he just wouldn’t have a girlfriend or even bother dating for years. It must be our ages.
Anyway as the night progressed he got my number and I agreed that I would go out for a drink with him. Or rather I gave my number to his brother because he didn’t have his phone. We seemed to spend most of our night just gazing at one another. It sounds sickly how I’m wording it but that is exactly as it was. He himself doesn’t remember too much about the night except for the gazing. I was just gazing at his eyes and he was just gazing at mine. He then asked me for a cheeky kiss and I told him “no” and it was time for me to limp off, step around a woman who was laying in a drunken stupor on the floor in the rain being looked after by her friends. I needed to go and find my friends.
So I met a man in a pub, in town, and we were both wearing 70’s fancy dress. I’ve since learned that he wasn’t going to go out that night either. He only went out because it was a birthday bash that he needed to attend.
Things happen for a reason and sometimes fate plays that hand. I wasn’t looking for love. He wasn’t looking for love. But somehow we both found love. And yes like the song. We both found it in a hopeless place.
The story got stranger…
He was texting me through the night and I was replying. The next day we continued texting. He knew my first name but he didn’t know my second name. I actually still use my married name. Purely for the sake of the children. The phone went silent for a minute. Then he replied…
“You are kidding. That’s my surname. Please don’t tell me that you are my cousin!”
I was gutted as I considered that actually he must be a relation. I went into the story and as it happens he isn’t. Which is a tremendous relief. After all, names like Smith are a common name. It doesn’t always mean related.
I was still carrying a lot of hatred towards men and struggling with trust issues. But my boyfriend genuinely is my rock who has smashed any feelings of doubt that I may have had. Not necessarily about him but just men in general. He has taken me to hospital appointments, helped with the children, when I’ve needed rest made sure I’ve had it, treated me like a princess and always stood by my side. If I go out, he goes out with me, if I stay in, he stays in with me. He backs me up with everything. We text for hours every single night that we are apart and that has continued for two years. We’ve experienced one magical holiday together. Our separate lives are our working lives and when we need time alone with our children. Everybody who sees us together comments on how well suited we are and how much we look like we are enjoying our time together. Our laughs are real laughs.
I’m a different woman than the woman I was when I first met him. I am happy and I’m content. My health has bloomed and my weight is back to my normal 9 stone weight. I’m in no pain and the specialist told me that she has never seen blood results improve so dramatically. At the moment my disorder is in remission and my medication has for the first time in ten years been lowered. I feel like I’m ready to exercise again. I have missed running so much.
They say that there are no knights in shining armour and maybe there aren’t. But fate is fate and something brought us together that night and I’m glad it did.
My boyfriend did take me at my worst but actually it might sound clichéd but he really does now have me at my best.
Love is love. I found it. I’m lucky. I’m blessed.
And for the record… I think Gay Pride is absolutely amazing… Everybody deserves to feel love and do with it exactly as they choose.