STILL STANDING. M.G. Crisci
After a few shifts, John asked: “Fancy a ‘lock-in?” The rest is history. We had that drink as promised and a cheeky kiss as he pulled me onto his lap.
~
I’d been asked out on a date by Chris Martsden, a professional Southampton football player, and turned down advances from popstar Pete Devereaux, of Garage sensation, Artful Dodger.
I wasn’t interested, despite their fame. I wanted to find myself a true, honest gentleman, and I did, in John. I adored his smile, Irish blue eyes, and quirky dance moves. His sultry voice sealed the deal. At last, I’d found my soulmate.
We’d dated for a week when John whispered those magical three words, “I love you” in Kelly’s karaoke bar.
I smiled and answered, “I love you, too.”
It sounds crazy, but there was something extraordinary between us. My life as a misguided, young woman was over!
John grabbed the microphone and sang Ronan Keating’s When You Say Nothing at All. It melted my heart. I’d never been serenaded.
Karaoke was his fun side. It became our song. In time, John added to his song-list Elton John’s, Your Song, Santana’s, Smooth, and Right Said Fred’s, Deeply Dippy. I’ll cherish those memories forever.
~
Our relationship moved fast. John sent me love letters via email when I went home for the summer. I still have them 17 years later.
In the letters, he said, “I’ll always love you and promise never to let you down.” Reading his words made me feel like Her Majesty the Queen. I was head over heels in love. When he closed one letter with, “I have never wanted to say I love you to someone so soon.” I was simply breathless.
John kept hinting at a surprise at the end of the month, saying he missed me, loved every minute with me, and that would never change.
The surprise came. Our first weekend break in Hampshire—the 5-star plush, McDonald Botley Grange Hotel. Pretty posh for students!
Something seemed off. John was fidgety, pacing the room. I assumed it was nerves, we had been together three months, but this was our first stay away. John sat on the edge of the bed and plucked a ring box from his pocket. “Will you marry me?” he asked nervously. I was stunned and ecstatic. “Yes,” I replied, beaming, my heart on the verge of explosion.
The three-stone diamond trilogy ring was beautiful if a little large. I wrapped toilet paper around it and wore it to dinner, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
John said he wanted to share his life with me. I wanted the same; we were magic. I’d finally met my match.
There were only two issues; John hadn’t asked my father’s permission, and he didn’t get down on one knee. I decided to overlook such archaic traditions, but both sets of parents felt the proposal was too soon. After all, we had only been together for three months!
Mum and Dad expressed their concerns. “You’ll ruin your degrees.” Their comments were upsetting. I explained firmly, “There is no way we will quit university!”
Once we had all met, their skepticism turned to acceptance. We proved everyone wrong and completed our degrees. It was now clear to everyone we were love’s young dream. John graduated first and stayed in Southampton while I completed my final year. During that time, we became the envy of every couple. Friends nicknamed us “Posh & Becks.” (celebrity couple Victoria and David Beckham). We became the university’s poster children for the perfect love.
~
After graduation, we experienced our first challenge. Finding a reporter’s job proved trickier than I imagined. It seemed as though every journalism graduate was applying for the declining number of reporting jobs around the country.
John couldn’t help but notice I was applying for roles all over the UK. He was angry. “How come we didn’t discuss possible locations before you started your mass solicitation?”
I told him, “I didn’t see the point until I was offered a real interview.”
He misunderstood my response. He thought I would accept whatever job I could find and expect him to follow me like a good puppy dog. That was never the case.
“You can’t just expect me to follow you wherever you want! I have a career too,” he said.
“You said you hated your career and wanted out of the NHS,” I replied,” rather harshly.
“I’m just looking at all my options,” John said, “don’t you trust me?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. I said nothing. That said it all to John. He believed I was determined to have a career of my own—on my terms, and that his job would always come second. That was not true, but it freaked him out.
He decided to dump me. “I love you, but I’m not prepared to move anywhere you want so that you can get a job you want.” I tried to provide a proper explanation—reporting jobs were scarce, trainee ones even rarer. He was not interested in my rationale. He left abruptly, and just ignored all my calls.
Ironically, if I’d been offered an interview somewhere that John did not wish to reside, I wouldn’t have gone. I loved him. He was my future and I loved him with every inch of my heart. His rejection put me in an emotional quandary. I cried until no more tears could flow. I did a Bridget Jones—drank wine to excess in the dark and played our favorite love songs in the voicemails I left for John.
Utterly heartbroken and intoxicated, I dragged my tipsy feet through puddles toward the train station. I boarded a train with underwear and socks shoved in a bag and ran home. Mum tried to comfort me. She told me, “Everything is going to be okay.” I could see the lie in her eyes; she knew her daughter was broken.
~
I could not imagine life without John.
I needed answers for why my wonderful life seemed always to collapse. Perhaps this was my punishment for breaking boys’ hearts in the past?
I set out to find, Madam Tamar, the spiritualist medium who had seen Mum 30 years earlier. Mum told me Madam T had predicted she would marry a man in uniform, move to a sunny country and have a baby. As if by magic, Mum went on a date with an RAF officer. They married, moved to Cyprus, and had my sister Shelly. Surely Madam T could tell me if my future was brighter than my present.
I tracked Madam Tamar down and visited without an appointment. Shivering in the cold drizzle on her doorstep, I was greeted by cats and a little old lady, who looked irate.
She looked into my woeful, sad eyes, and softened as I explained I wanted a reading. “Okay, come in dear out of the rain.” She sensed my sadness and sheer desperation.
I had removed my ring to put her to the test. She gave two names; Mary and my ex, Will. “He’s still in love with you!”
Next, she told me I was upset over a relationship but promised me it wasn’t over.
“He will be back. The number nine is significant.”
“It could be nine days, nine weeks, nine months, my dear, but he will be back,” she assured. Her prediction gave me goosebumps. Would I wait for nine months? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I was heartbroken and didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
I kid you not; my mobile rang at 9 pm that same night. It was John.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted. It wasn’t fair. I love you. Can we try again?”
John wanted me back. He said he realized he’d been foolish, misunderstood my intentions to pick up sticks and leave. I assured him before we would ever pick up sticks and move to a new town, we would make such an important decision together.
~
From that moment on, we were solid, and I was true to my word. So, when a journalist’s job I wanted