Ok so some of you appear to want to know how my girlfriend and I met and how, against Atlantic-sized odds, we’ve managed three years. Well here’s the story of our meeting. At the time I was dating a girl in London, but things had been dying for a while, so when the possibility of a month away seeing my brothers, having weddings and going scuba diving came up I was all over it like tits on a top-shelf. My trip ended up in
I’ll just take a moment to explain my mind-set at the time. From a relationship perspective the trip was the perfect way to put a bit of physical distance between myself and my ex. We were both bored of each other but neither had the inclination to end things. ‘Bad me’ had fully been intending to try and get his end away during the trip mainly for fun, but also make it morally impossible to stay in that relationship – screw ‘good me’ into a moral corner, if you will. Various things – including the knowledge that it was wrong to do so – conspired to thwart my attempts. I mean, if you’re staying in a hostel in the Cook Islands and you don’t manage to get your wick wet then your heart just isn’t in it.
The week extension meant my brother’s time off had ended and he was back at work, so he enlisted the help of the girl who used to Nanny for his children. The actual flow of events during our first meeting is totally jumbled for me, as I fancied her the moment I saw her. I’m not going to be as floptarded as to say ‘love at first sight’, but it was certainly ‘fuck me at first sight’. She’d just come from the gym and was wearing LuLu lemon workout trousers that looked like they’d been sprayed on in a latex factory. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her arse – which made conversation tricky as I had to stand behind her. However, I really don’t believe in love at first sight, but my nephew could have been licking the plug socket at the time and I’d not have noticed. She sounded confident, looked it and was pretty and seemed nice – I was smitten.
I still remember the thrill of talking to her for the fist time, doing my level best not to sound a twat, and pull off an air that suggested I was both sweet, but also Bond-like and able to kill a man with my sheer masculinity. I failed. She loves to tell people I was wearing ‘rafting sandals’ and looked a spod. In my defence, they were a pair of very comfortable and extremely practical Teva walking sandals, that I am sure bond would wear on is days off. At the time she was living with her long-term boyfriend of six years. He was a rather, er, limited individual who had a penchant for road rage and jealousy – one of those ‘fighty’ sorts. Not blowing my own trumpet (if only, eh?) but that wasn’t a hard act to follow and she and I spent two days seeing sites and enjoying each other’s company. I was enjoying myself so much I extend my trip again. There was, of course, still the nagging problem of my existing girlfriend. But that went away pretty sharply, because following the email announcing the second trip extension she phoned me up and said that she had been going to wait till I got back but decided it was best to do it now – then broke up with me.
I felt fucking great. I may have said thank you.
On day three we had we went to a Mexican restaurant in San Diego Old Town and drank till the small hours. We’d discussed the idea of getting a hotel room already, but under the rather transparent guise of it being too far get a taxi if Michelle got too drunk to drive back. Plus, and this is the important bit, Old Town is next to SeaWorld where my family (who had recently arrived from NZ on their way through back to the UK) were going for a day out as a treat for my two nephews. We got kicked out of the restaurant at about 11.30, said good-bye to her friends found ourselves in exactly the situation we had foreseen. Oh look, a Marriot hotel across the way and both of us with overnight bags… how convenient. We should get one room, right? They all have two queen-sized beds in anyway…
So we checked into the hotel room… then fucked each other’s brains out. Starting around midnight and finishing around 4.30 in the morning. Yes, I boffed the nanny. The next day, it was a ‘fuck-knackered’ pair who did the walk of shame around SeaWorld. My parents tried to pretend they didn’t know of such things, my brother and his ex wife tried a divide and conquer method to get gossip and my nephews…well they just babbled about dolphins. That day was also the day that my girlfriend dumped her ex and moved out…