Greatest Love Story – Never Told

Tomorrow is Beltane, later called May Day. It was Henry VIII favorite holiday. It is also a day for celebrating love. It was one of the first indigenous traditions attacked by the christian church. Why? Because one of those traditions was for couples to slip away from the bonfire into the fields and spill some seed of a different kind. It was about sex and love as much as summer.

It is also our fifth anniversary. Yes, I met Alan on May 1st. I have often said that if I wrote our book, no one would believe it. But today, I’ll give you the abridged story.


Alan lost his wife of almost twenty-five years in November 2015. Telsa’s battle with cancer with long and brave. One of the things that she wanted for him was to find someone else to love. I think being the smart woman that she was, she realized that some people just aren’t meant to be alone. She actually encouraged him to begin dating before her death, but he wasn’t comfortable with that.

And me? I was struggling as a single parent on benefits with an autistic ten-year-old. I had pretty much given up on the kind of love that I wrote about in my books. At least for me. I had been involved in a long-distance poly-quad, but that fell apart in February 2016. I won’t go into details but I ‘survived’ a gaslighting and domestic abuse situation with my ex. Ironically on Valentine’s Day. After the police and social services were done with me, yes, victim blaming is also alive and well in the London Metropolitan Police, I decided – okay, you’re stuck. At least until @PanKwake is sixteen or eighteen.

You see I hated London. I had not realized my own autism then, but the noise, the people, it got to me as much as to @PanKwake. But one of the reasons I favor a universal base income over reforming ‘welfare’ or ‘benefits’ systems is that those things are traps. They limit your options. Yes, we had an adequate two-bedroom flat. But the construction work in and around us was driving us insane. The system does not care about such things. There is no freedom of choice, take what we give you or else. I was stuck. To make matters more intense, like Angel in My One, @PanKwake had seizures as well as several meltdowns every single day.

No man was going to take on that kind of baggage.

Or so too many of them had told me.

But if this was my life. At least for almost another decade then I was going to make the most of it. I paid for a carer for ten hours a week. One of those was Sundays. I was through with casual sex. I had discovered the hard way that each person you have sex with, you give a piece of your soul. Yes, they are supposed to give you a piece of theirs in return. But in this misogynistic world, that yin-yang balance is not weighted in favor of the sexually liberated woman. I had BOB for that. And the sea captain once or twice a year for the kinky BDSM stuff.

This time I went online looking for one thing…a friend to do fun stuff with on Sundays. Museums, walks, the movies, loads to do in London. And as you can imagine, I was ghosted. Despite the friends only thing, many wanted/demanded benefits. But there was one thing that kept me active on that site – its questionnaire. As part of its matching protocol, questions popped up. Sometime stupid ones, but often surprisingly thought-provoking ones. Then it matched you with people based on the percentage you agreed on.

That night I was chatting with someone when a profile popped up. We were a 92% match. But it was something else that caught my attention.

He had the kindest eyes.

I waited for him to message me. But he didn’t. I checked out his profile. He had a really BIG profile. And I read it all. My heart went out when I read about Telsa. And I realized why he had not messaged me…and would not. He was open to the idea of single moms, but only those local to him. Considering how things had gone with the sea captain, I got that. But he was so smart, you could tell from his profile. Even if it was just friends email, texting, and calling, this was someone I wanted to get to know.

And most impressive of all? Besides those eyes of course. He had answered over 4,000. Yes, FOUR-thousand of those questions. I was proud of my 750. And most men had only a few. A hundred was impressive. But 4K? I had to know this guy.

Except I had this rule: I don’t message men. They come to me, first.

Obviously, now I knew why that wasn’t going to happen. Did I break my own rule? Well, I bet you can guess the naswer to that. And he broke his as well. He was at least open to getting to know the Crazzy single mom who lived all the way in London.

But as you get older one thing you realize is…don’t waste time. He was coming to London in ten days for a concert. I found out only after we were living together that he had arranged three dates that weekend. And I was the one he was certain would not work out.

The Date

So, we agreed to meet that Sunday morning, May 1st for coffee. It was one string of disasters after another. First, my carer was ill and cancelled on me. My older daughter, Precious, agreed to watch @PanKwake, though. But she arrived at least half an hour late. And informed me that was fine…a woman should always keep a man waiting on the first date. WTF?

Since I lived in London, he left it up to me choose the location. There was a Costa coffee at the end of London Bridge. I had been there before and could get there on one bus. So, I picked there. EXCEPT that location was called something else. Costa – London Bridge was well over a mile away. And I SUCK at using the GPS on my phone.

Here I was wandering aimlessly around London. Cussing. Jack comes by it naturally. He gets it from his writer. I remember thinking…If this man had not come all the way from Swansea, I would turn around and go home. Good thing I did not know I was his third date that weekend or I would have. I also swore…I am not going on a second date with this man. And honestly, we did not for a long time. My life made dating a challenge.

Obviously, I finally found the Costa – London Bridge that I had sent him to. He’s pretty unmissable with that beard. Of course, there’s always that awkward moment when you meet. Do we shake hands or hug? It was a nice long hug. And the thing I noticed was that I fit perfectly under his chin. We chatted a bit. Then we went to LAM (London Alternative Market…and if you can’t guess what that is, you ain’t read enough of my crap, or aren’t old enough). We chatted as we walked the booths. I ran into a couple of friends, but thankfully none of my old lovers/Doms.

Now, the one thing that we had agreed was…there was no use getting to know and like one another then him meeting @PanKwake and realizing he could not handle my life. This was a huge departure for me. In the five years, I had been separated from her father, she had only met two of my lovers. Then only for less than ten minutes in passing. Of course, her father was on his third girlfriend, I think.

So, I threw Alan in the deep end. We took the bus back to mine. I turn the key in the lock, hearing screaming and laughter on the other side. @PanKwake was chasing Precious around the living room with a can of fake poo. Yes, fake poop. Shit. I stood there thinking…oh, well, he was a really nice guy. How long before he comes up with a reason to leave? Ten minutes? No, he’s too nice. Fifteen.

Two hours later, after serving him cous-cous with courgette (that’s zucchini to us Americans), which he does not like, he pulls out his phone and says he has missed the last train to Swansea for the day. He pulls up an app and starts looking for hotels.

Now, I feel guilty. This is London and hotels are expensive. It is also Bank Holiday weekend, so they are even more expensive. I tell him to wait. Would he like to stay with me? Only two things…@PanKwake has to agree. She has seen her dad with his lovers, but not me. So, I’m not sure what she’ll say. And number two…I am NOT having sex with him on the first date. Did I keep that promise? Well, that depends on who you believe…Bill Clinton or Monica Lewinski.

It was late afternoon before he left to catch his train home on Monday. We had taken @PanKwake to the park. He said he would come back the next weekend. But honestly, I had been burned too many times. I didn’t really believe him.

He came back. He brought me this… (That’s the Welsh word for hug/cuddle. But it really is so much more.)

My first gift from Alan

And he never really left. But that is the rest of the story… Like the moment I realized I loved him, while he was patiently answering @PanKwake’s silly questions (he still does) and kissing me the moment she left the room. Or finding out WHO he was. Or how many zeros were on his bank account. Then going for a walk only to discover this is a millionaire with a charity shop addiction bigger than my own. Or seeing his home for the first time and saying the line from Pretty Women (I’m Cinder-fucking-rella). Or the morning after the blow up with his neighbor over the noise @PanKwake made when he said to me…I knew going in that a few sleepless nights would be the cost of loving you. She’d didn’t get that choice. We will move. Then him buying @HomeCrazzyHome just so we could stay together. But all that and more is the rest of…

The greatest love story never written…

Because quite frankly, no one would believe me if I did.

I hope I haven’t bored you too much. I’ll go now, edit, and post your next chapter of #ReconciliationTX. Have a great weekend. And remember, sometimes love finds you when you least expect it, with someone that breaks all your rules, when you have given up.

Goddess bless and give you all love in abundance, beginning with self-love,

6 thoughts on “Greatest Love Story – Never Told

  1. Sounds to me like the heavens opened and showed you the path to the one who would and could fill your heart. Blessings to you all.

  2. Thank you so much for sharing. Blessings on you, Alan, and PanQuake. With two autistic grandchildren and an Asperger’s son, I honestly understand at least some of your struggles. I am so glad you have found your own Happily Ever After.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.