The one that got away?

The other night I was having a late night gab with my friend who lives across the pond. We touched on our usual subjects- men, shoes,men and men again. Whilst discussing my latest dating trials and tribulations I mentioned that I got 3 Valentines cards this year (4 if you include the sympathy one my sweet sister sent me)- an absolute record not witnessed since my early 20's. One of the cards was from a guy who I have known for about 6 years. He has crushed on me for 6 years and 4 years ago he proposed and i said..... well let me start from the beginning.

I met, lets call him "good on paper guy", in London. He was an American lawyer whose company had transferred him to London for work purposes. His job required him to be in this rainy city for 6 months. When I first agreed to go out with him I had only seen his photograph. I knew that he was 5ft1 but I had no idea that a 5ft1 for man would literally qualify as midget status- in my book anyway.

We met for drinks in Kensington High Street. I spotted him from a distance, a small figure of a man, and as i walked closer instead of him getting bigger the figure just looked smaller. As I finally stood in front of him, I smiled and I bent right down to air kiss his cheek- not great for my old woman knees.

Arriving at the restaurant we grabbed a table, ordered some mojitos and the akwardiness melted away. We laughed and ordered more rounds of mojitos. I was loving this guy. I thought he was super funny. He is a lawyer ( my dad would love that), he is cute (my mother would find him adorable), he loves sports (a great plus to win over my brothers) and he was a home owner ( my sister- the sensible one- would see that as a definete plus).

After that first date I knew he was good on paper guy- perfect but still for some reason not quite right. I must admit I led him along until he returned to NY. Following his departure from dreary London, our friendship continued and to this day everytime I am in NY he treats me to a great dinner, brunch etc.

The day that I knew he wanted to marry me, was on one of my many trips to NY. I met him for brunch feeling the worse for wear having been out the night before and surviving on only 5 hours sleep. I welcomed a cup of coffee and greasy breakfast. As he talked i listened and ohhhhed and ahhhhed at the right places. Then he bought up his girlfriend. "Juicy" I thought "tell me more". He told me how he felt she was not the one, that he likes someone else, that he is sick of dating and wants to settle down and marry.

With my fork full of sausage and egg I stopped midway enroute to my mouth as it dawned on me that as he spoke he was looking at me in a funny way. Putting the fork down I realised that "the other girl" was me, and it was me he was referring too. He continued his rant, asking me when I am going to settle down and stop partying. I let him go on for about 10 minutes before I realised he had asked me "the question" and me being me I played deaf and asked the passing waiter for the check. He bought it over in 30 seconds flat, "good on paper" guy paid and we quickly exited the restaurant.

As we walked down park avenue i rambled on about nothing in particular and then before i knew it I was bidding him good bye and running into the nearest Starbucks seeking refuge in a tall extra hot wet hazelnut latte. As I sipped I thought to myself "did that really happen?" and "did I really just ignore him?".

Fast forward to 4 years later, I finished telling the story to my friend. Talking in her I-am-about-to-part-with-some-wise-words-voice she concluded that i obviously dont want to get married because Lord knows that if I truely wanted to get hitched 5ft1 or not I would be married, driving a range rover and living in a big house with (most likely) my vertically challenged 2.4 kids.

The one that got away? I think not!

LSGS