Love story 56 – Despair
A million poems, songs, novels and diaries have been written about unrequited love. For many years, my love for Husband-to-be, Anthony, was seemingly unrequited and the tragedy is that it wasn’t unrequited, it was just restrained by some sort of weird leash borne of fear, workaholicism (yes, he was a workaholic), of our 23 year age difference and of his respect for me.
I sometimes wonder why it didn’t happy-end itself sooner. Would we have had more children? Would we have loved each other with the same intensity? Would we have gotten sick of each other? Would we be the same people we are now?
I remember once, in deep despair, riding my bicycle down a long hill in Perth and deliberately ignoring all of the stop signs, hoping a car would hit and kill me. That was the closest I ever got to suicide. Instead of being hit, I rode through over ten stop signs unscathed and had to slowly walk my bicycle back up the hill to the little flat where I was living.
Living.
Love story 57 – Elation
We would meet at a pub/restaurant called ‘Henry Africa’s’.
Anthony would travel up from the farm and I would walk down from my little flat. Sometimes he would be there first and sometimes I would be. Whoever was first would be sitting at the bar with two beers.
I tried hard not to be the first one there because I got a kick out of walking into the pub, and watching Anthony’s grin happen.
Love story 58 – Turntable
I sometimes felt a bit embarrassed at the turn my relationship with Anthony took because it seemed too much like one of those women’s magazine romances. The difference was, of course, that, instead of the tall, dark, handsome lord-of-the-manor turning the petite, blonde, beautiful maidservant into the love of his life in a few pages, our story took a bit longer to get to the first chapter!
Also, I don’t think Anthony and I ever fit into the stereotypical character types. He was never tall or dark or particularly handsome and I was never petite, blonde or particularly beautiful. And he was never a lord and I was never a servant, however ….
The table turning event was exactly like one of those romance stories in many ways. The only difference is that when the frog turned into the prince, I didn’t recognize him – not for ages. And when I did recognize him, I thought he was a bit of a dag and would throw my long, gorgeous hair over my shoulder, blink my beautiful, heavily eyelashed eyes and frown (in a way that doesn’t produce a line in your forehead), and say, “May I help you?”
Love story 59 – Joe
I was living in a bedsit, studying at a university and working in a nursing home when Anthony proposed marriage.
By then, of course I was more like vegemite than butter and I did not want to leave my bedsit, or my studies, but most of all I did not want to leave Joe, an elderly man in the nursing home where I worked, who had become my mentor and my muse.
I told Anthony that I could not leave Joe.
Love story 60 – Cold feet
After Joe died I felt okay about resigning from my job at the nursing home, not renewing my bedsit lease agreement and arranging with my PhD supervisor to commute from the country from now on (the farm was 200 kms from Perth).
I did none of these things, however, in a hurry because I loved living in Perth. As I gradually let my friends know I was now engaged to the elusive farmer who none of them had ever met, there were mixed reactions. My best friend, Andrew, the Anglican priest who we had chosen to marry us, wasn’t sure if Anthony was ready (ha!); my Guinness buddies didn’t want me to abandon them; my female friends were delighted but cynical.
Despite the beautiful antique engagement ring on my finger, I still didn’t trust Anthony and kept anticipating that he would renege, so when he suddenly got cold feet one day I wasn’t surprised.
jmgoyder 
I love this story… I some how got lost and spent yesterday getting back up to speed… but glad I’ve found the story again…
Thanks you wonderful guy!!!!
was ready to read more, and then it stopped. LOL
Tomorrow!
great!
I meant to save further mini-chapter for tomorrow but accidentally pressed ‘publish’ instead of ‘save’ – oh well!
i am just giving u a hard time. LOL
lol!!
I am really enjoying your love story each post leaves us wanting more and more so of course we will be back to read more………..now cold feet not something that happen to me or Tim before our wedding we both knew it was the right thing and never looked back he is still the love of my life………….and I know how lucky I am to be able to say that……….
You and Tim are lucky to have each other.
How can yo leave me hanging like this?! Oh, wait, you didn’t. You posted the next chapter already!! Thank goodness!!!!
Barb
Ha!
This one left us on a cliff-hanger note with the “cold feet” problem…..
It okayed itself!