Mr B -- My Love Story

Sophie, Super Amazing Mum, is the woman I hold solely responsible for suggesting I start blogging.  I love her blog style and feel honoured that she takes time to read mine, comment on it and pat me on the back.

Sophie and another blogger, Manic Mum, have come up with the idea of a meme entitled "My True Love Story".  The idea being, your write your own, and we link them together.

This poses a problem for me as my "love" reads my blog.  As do my children.  As do my parents.   I don't want to embarrass anybody or make anybody 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.   I still have that ring.

In April we went to Hatton Garden and Mr B chose a diamond whilst I chose the setting and whilst we went off for a coffee my engagement ring was made.

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.   

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 do too.   Mr B I love you.