The man, Bill, who had convinced me to come from Perth to Melbourne with an extraordinary flurry of happily-ever-after promises was waiting eagerly for me at the airport. After so many years of being seemingly un-adored by Anthony, being adored by another man was pretty seductive.
This whole story may have changed route if, on the morning of the day of my flight, roses hadn’t arrived. But it wasn’t just the roses that flummoxed me; it was the rather desperate last phone-call Anthony made to me, within which there was a marriage proposal.
Maybe I should have just reneged on Bill? No, I couldn’t do that; it would have been too cruel! Also, it had been a couple of months since I had once and for all given up on Anthony with zero attempts from him to reconcile. He almost never phoned me so I found his multiple phone-calls to me, over the 24 period before going to Melbourne, bemusing, bewildering and slightly irritating.
So on that midnight flight to Melbourne I wrote everything Anthony had proclaimed to me, during all of those frantic phone-calls, on the back of a large envelope in which I had my writings to show a very interested Bill. I knew that if I didn’t write Anthony’s sentences down pronto I would never believe them.
Anthony begged me not to go to Melbourne and I said, with the tiniest bit of satisfaction, “It’s too late, Ants.”
Melbourne can be cold, even in summer.
jmgoyder 
Wow
Goodness me, what a story you have to tell and how well you tell it.
Wow…………………..
glad he came to his senses