How do you mend a broken heart? Write a blog post about it.
December 6th 2007 05:15
My husband has completely devestated me. I am utterly heartbroken. I sit here, weeping over lost love, thinking of what could have been.
Yesterday I fell in love. It was my husband's fault. He last week ran into the back of someone on the way to work, and we thought wrote off my little Mazda 121 Bubble, affectionately known as Morrie. After much to-ing and fro-ing with the insurers, who basically say it will cost as much to repair as it's worth, of visiting a car dealership to discuss leases, and of countless hours searching for Campervans on the internet, I became smitten.
It was love at first sight.
I first saw him on ebay. I just happened to search for "Morris Minor", just in case there was one around. There he was, in a tiny little square on the screen. Standing there on a beachfront promenade. Standing there topless. Standing there on an angle so I could admire the muscles that rippled down his sides.
Then I clicked on his image. From then I was doomed. His English accent, cheeky grin, and his perfectly polished gleaming exterior. His heart, red and exposed without his top on, made mine skip a beat.
I rang his number and arranged a meeting.
For protection, I took my daughter along. She would be a reminder to not get too carried away. She loved Morrie. He had always been part of her life. She was quite reticent to meet the prospective new guy at first, but this gentle British gent soon won her heart too. Like any kid meeting a charming new acquaintance, within minutes she was climbing all over him.
Up close, in the flesh, he was more gorgeous than I had ever imagined. Though significantly older than me, he showed no signs of age. He was still as fit as when he first rolled off the production line.
He'd been around. Probably many times. He must have seen a lot since 1956. I know that in the last few years he'd even had the audacity to pick up women on their wedding days! I'm sure many of them would have looked back as they left him there in the street, after they'd said their vows to another. I know how they'd have felt. On my own Wedding Day, almost eleven years ago, I had a brief fling with one of his ruddier brothers. Still as charming and attractive, but the boundaries were clear. He was just there for the day. It could go no further.
However this one could potentially be mine. Forever. Till death parts us. My heart was aflutter as he purred to me when he got turned on.
But as soon as my husband found out about this meeting, he was determined to put an end to this potential relationship. He came out with all the reasons I couldn't be with this new man. It wasn't safe. These topless types offer no protection. He'll crumble if he runs into something bigger than him. What if you were in an accident? The kids could get hurt around him. And at his age, would he start every time I needed him? You would regret leaving Morrie for him.
However the dream was not quashed until about half an hour ago, when he rang to say he'd discussed it with someone. Sticking with Morrie was the sound thing to do. Morrie was safer, younger, cheaper. It didn't matter to my husband that I wasn't in love with Morrie. Morrie was now my husband's mate, and he wouldn't let him be sent to the scrapheap by this old Pommy bloke who couldn't act his age. He had put his foot down. I had no say in it, really.
So this white hot, muscular, gorgeous machine will not be part of my life.
I sit here now, weeping over his image, wishing there was another way we could be together. What if I suddenly came into some money? Then I could run away with him, regardless of my husband's blessing. Oh, to be financially independent!
I will have to refrain from checking his ebay page, to see who gets the guy in the end. It will be to heartbreaking to know he's with someone else.
I hope one day I will find someone like him again, and that when that happens, I'll be free to take the plunge.
In the meantime, satirising the whole thing makes me able to see the funny side of a grown woman falling in love with an old car... though the thing about satire is there's always an element of truth in the barbed comments.
Yesterday I fell in love. It was my husband's fault. He last week ran into the back of someone on the way to work, and we thought wrote off my little Mazda 121 Bubble, affectionately known as Morrie. After much to-ing and fro-ing with the insurers, who basically say it will cost as much to repair as it's worth, of visiting a car dealership to discuss leases, and of countless hours searching for Campervans on the internet, I became smitten.
It was love at first sight.
The most beautiful car in the world.
I first saw him on ebay. I just happened to search for "Morris Minor", just in case there was one around. There he was, in a tiny little square on the screen. Standing there on a beachfront promenade. Standing there topless. Standing there on an angle so I could admire the muscles that rippled down his sides.
Then I clicked on his image. From then I was doomed. His English accent, cheeky grin, and his perfectly polished gleaming exterior. His heart, red and exposed without his top on, made mine skip a beat.
I rang his number and arranged a meeting.
For protection, I took my daughter along. She would be a reminder to not get too carried away. She loved Morrie. He had always been part of her life. She was quite reticent to meet the prospective new guy at first, but this gentle British gent soon won her heart too. Like any kid meeting a charming new acquaintance, within minutes she was climbing all over him.
He'd been around. Probably many times. He must have seen a lot since 1956. I know that in the last few years he'd even had the audacity to pick up women on their wedding days! I'm sure many of them would have looked back as they left him there in the street, after they'd said their vows to another. I know how they'd have felt. On my own Wedding Day, almost eleven years ago, I had a brief fling with one of his ruddier brothers. Still as charming and attractive, but the boundaries were clear. He was just there for the day. It could go no further.
However this one could potentially be mine. Forever. Till death parts us. My heart was aflutter as he purred to me when he got turned on.
But as soon as my husband found out about this meeting, he was determined to put an end to this potential relationship. He came out with all the reasons I couldn't be with this new man. It wasn't safe. These topless types offer no protection. He'll crumble if he runs into something bigger than him. What if you were in an accident? The kids could get hurt around him. And at his age, would he start every time I needed him? You would regret leaving Morrie for him.
However the dream was not quashed until about half an hour ago, when he rang to say he'd discussed it with someone. Sticking with Morrie was the sound thing to do. Morrie was safer, younger, cheaper. It didn't matter to my husband that I wasn't in love with Morrie. Morrie was now my husband's mate, and he wouldn't let him be sent to the scrapheap by this old Pommy bloke who couldn't act his age. He had put his foot down. I had no say in it, really.
So this white hot, muscular, gorgeous machine will not be part of my life.
I sit here now, weeping over his image, wishing there was another way we could be together. What if I suddenly came into some money? Then I could run away with him, regardless of my husband's blessing. Oh, to be financially independent!
I will have to refrain from checking his ebay page, to see who gets the guy in the end. It will be to heartbreaking to know he's with someone else.
I hope one day I will find someone like him again, and that when that happens, I'll be free to take the plunge.
In the meantime, satirising the whole thing makes me able to see the funny side of a grown woman falling in love with an old car... though the thing about satire is there's always an element of truth in the barbed comments.
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