Mr B — My Love Story

My Love Story

Love Story

I was challenged to write down my “love story” which is actually not that straight forward as it isn’t your typical “we met, we fell in love and got married” kinda story.  Added to which my “love” reads my blog.  As do my children. And parents.   Plus I really don’t want to embarrass anybody or make anyone vomit.

So here goes.

I had recently become a single mum with three children and had moved into a new house.   Adjusting to my new life was hard and yet at the same time, a relief.   Suddenly three children were dependent on me but at the same time I could make all the decisions.

I don’t know what made me go to the Three Frogs in Wokingham that evening in early 2002, normally I would have said “sorry, I have to get home to the children”.   I don’t know why Mr B had the said the same thing either since he had  long journey home from work to Teddington.

Fate?  Who knows?

So we found ourselves in the same pub.   And talking and suddenly ignoring everybody else there.   Before we knew it, it was time to leave and Mr B walked me to my car, holding my hand.   I will never forget him holding my hand.   It was such a simple gesture but right then it meant the world.

Here was me, single mum with three children, just out of a ten year marriage, wrong side of a size 16,  I really didn’t feel like I was catch of the century.   Yet this solvent, funny, attractive man was paying attention to me and asking if he could come over later in the week to cook me dinner.

As we were both just out of marriages we took it very slowly.  There were no big family outings and meeting of families.  That wouldn’t be fair on the children if it all went wrong.  In fact it was six months before they even knew Mr B existed.   Flowers delivered were from “Mr Thursday” and they had no idea who that was.

We went to Amsterdam, where Mr B had lived for 2 years, for the Queens Golden Jubilee weekend and for the first time in years I felt alive.   I felt that I was becoming me again.  Not somebody’s wife or mother.  But me.  And this man wanted to be with me.

I fell in love in Amsterdam.

It was on a weekend away in Florence early in 2006 that on the last night in a Tapas bar Mr B start to roll up the napkin and make it into a ring.  He went down on bended knee and proposed to me using a napkin.   I still have that ring.

The following April we went to Hatton Garden and as Mr B chose a diamond I chose the setting for my ring, the jeweller then dispatching us to the coffee shop across the road to have a coffee as they built my ring in their onsite workshop.

Eighteen months later on the August Bank Holiday Monday in 2008, at the Elvetham Hotel in Hartley Wintney I walked down the aisle to marry Mr B.  In a small ceremony, with my dad giving me away (which he hadn’t done “first time round”).   We walked back up the aisle to “Happy Together” by the Turtles.   Rog, Mr B’s brother,  was our best man and he shone on that day.  His speech was the best we have ever heard.  The children had readings and Jonnie was our ring bearer with a cushion made by my new mother in law.

We have had our obstacles to over come, who hasn’t?  Deaths, redundancies, family dramas, school crises, we have faced them all, head on.   I know that with Mr B looking after me and the children we can get through it all.

We don’t say “I love you” everyday as some couples do.  We don’t need to.   We just know it.

And now you so do you.

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