Not the sweetest love story to tell the kids

I’m not good with dates. They stay distant, then suddenly jump on me. Occasionally they pass by unnoticed, and it’s days before I realise.

In two weeks the BH and I celebrate thirteen years married. This time I shall remember because I’m going to think about it a lot! And if it’s on my mind, you’re going to hear about it, so...

Let’s start at the beginning.

When I met my husband, I hated him.

He was a friend of my then boyfriend. I thought him an arrogant womaniser, who partied way too much and lectured me whenever I had the misfortune to cross his path.

This doesn’t mean I didn’t find him attractive. I did. But not physically. Not that there’s anything wrong with my husband physically, it’s just... so long as there’s nothing scary about a mans body (and he has strong forearms), I can be attracted to any type and find no particular type special.

You’re probably confused. Heck I get confused trying to explain! Umm, take Sean Bean. I don’t think he’s very nice, though I have nothing to base this on. Except he looks mean, and people that look mean, sometimes are. And mean people scare me, so I don’t like him in case he is mean. And. I think he needs to exfoliate more. He doesn’t have good skin, which is inexcusable when he must be wealthy. So I don’t like him, or find him physically appealing.

And yet… given half a chance, I’D RIP HIS CLOTHES OFF AND LOCK US IN A ROOM TOGETHER. For weeks. I might even have his children, ummm….

All things considered, it’s better if Sean and I never meet.

This was almost* how I felt about my Future BH (who knows about my Sean Bean fantasies, and finds them more than a little scary), though he wasn’t mean looking or had bad skin. No, the Future BH was physically acceptable, but too vain for my taste.

So now that I’ve made myself clear, I’ll progress…

Several months after becoming single again I was in a nighthclub and spotted my Future BH from afar. I tried to leave. I begged my girlfriend. But oh no, she was so busy getting it on with the DJ she wasn’t budging. (Thinking about it now, I could have left on my own – but the story would have been short.)

So… he came over. And due to my strict upbringing, I was forced to be polite because he was.

But it was a front. He just wanted a lift home and knew I’d be driving (I always do the driving ‘cause I rarely drink). And being a nice girl, I agreed and at the end of the evening waited for him. And waited.

Eventually he showed up sporting a spiky haired blond bimbo, who was tasteful enough to still doing up her shirt.

We drove home in silence and I stopped to drop him off.

At this point he should have said ‘Thanks’. He didn’t, he was rude. I lost my temper and got out of the car to tell him exactly what I thought of him and within minutes we were arguing in the street.

Unfortunately, it was a residential street and a lot of people weren’t amused, but he was… and invited me in to continue.

I think we shouted for the first hour. Then we started talking. I can’t say he wasn’t anything like I thought, but we clicked (which is odd because we have nothing in common. Seriously. Nothing). We sat talking for hours.

And then the most amazing thing happen.

He brushed the hair out of my eyes and I fell in love so completely I knew I would marry him.

I can remember the feeling even now. My stomach dropping so fast my heads spins. No one else has ever made me feel like that, and after thirteen years in a good marriage I'm mighty glad the feeling was true.

He didn’t kiss me that night (nor the next four), and you can probably guess the relationship wasn’t all dreamy and plain sailing. But it has a joyful end because we both grew up a bit, and got the hard bits over in the first few years before getting married and living happily ever after (good job too, as I wouldn’t have the energy for such a relationship now!)


Come back soon to find out why ‘taking a break’ only applied to him ;o)

--x--

* I say almost because I hadn’t been aware of the FBH for as long as I have Mr Bean, and was able to control myself. If Mr Bean ever gets within twenty feet of me – he won’t stand a chance.