Sometimes I read other peoples love stories and I have this funny wish to do it all over again, even though I already have mine!
I come from a generation (and social circle) that never took marriage as a given, but I always wanted it. By 29, I could see where we were all headed, my friends and I: still utterly hedonistic, hooked on festivals, allergic to jobs, scathing critics of the "system", and yet all yearning for children and a love story. How were we going to reconcile that?
My CV was a mess, I had travel stories in abundance but no savings, I had recently moved to the "spiritual capital" of Australia where women apparently outnumbered men 2:1 and the men had no interest in commitment. Why should they? It's also the kind of place where Tantric workshops are commonplace and "conscious relating" was something to aspire to, but it was like everyone's standards got a little TOO high, and no one had any staying power.
He was a barefoot farmer, vegan, arrogant, bitter from a lifetime of rejection from women (in his view). Similarly penniless, he drove an old Sazuki Sierra with no roof that had been his first car. He didn't believe in accumulating wealth. I was looking for the father of my children and he was NOT a great prospect. But something drew us together. We met by chance at a local cafe in the small town where we both lived. We were lovers by evening and we began fighting within days.
The first few weeks were so tempestuous, I was exhausted and thought "I have to get out of this". But it was like we could both see through the armours and facades the other had put up, and the layers of stories and limiting personas, and we were determined to break them down for each other. It was quite push-pull for the first year, but we "broke each other in" so to speak. After some time apart and me taking another lover, after leaving him with a letter and a sort of manifesto if what I thought our life could be like if we just chose each other and got on with it, he chased me down, and said he chose me, and we got on with it.
He proposed to me not long after my 31st birthday, then we accidentally spent a year apart due to covid border closures coming between us. The engagement kept us together, even though it felt tenuous at times. When we were reunited almost exactly a year later, this time in his home state of Tasmania, we conceived our first child within a week. We married in front of family and new and old friends in his parents' garden on a freezing autumn afternoon, it was gorgeous. I was pregnant with our second. We now have 2 incredibly perfect daughters and such a happy marriage.
He is a completely different man to the one I met 7 years ago, and yet he is exactly who I always saw he could be. Soft, devoted, utterly obsessed with me, also cooks me dinner every night! An incredible dad. An all-star lover. He still struggles with money, but I have taken on that role. We are half way to the dream life I envisioned in the letter I sent him all those years ago: we have the kids and the love and the community, we just have to buy the land and build our dream home next.
Sometimes I feel guilty for what I have compared to so many of my friends who are now approaching 40 without having realised their longing for a family. Ours was a generation suspicious of relationship, which made laying those essential foundations so hard. But what we've built did not come easy. And what we found when the dust settled were two very tender inner children who, had we met before the world hardened us, would've been the very best of friends.
This is such a beautiful, beautiful story, Gabrielle. With all its twists and turns. I recognise so much of it. Especially the fighting early on, the battling through, the "breaking each other in". This is post Costa Rica. We were so conscious of what we were doing (like you do): you could see the label "OLD shit" on almost everything that surfaced as we both feared getting closer, trusting again. I figured at the time, it was almost like getting break-up arguments out of the way, doing it in reverse order! I love what you have built and are building. Stay in touch with me.
Aww love this so much. I don’t think you made him sound not like a catch in the piece but then again, I also had a controlling wealthier first husband and fell for the kind, amazing gem of a man who didn’t value any of those things so I’d like to think I “get it.” I’ve been with my second husband for nine years and counting and I’m ever so grateful. So glad you’ve found your happiness and I love this raw, honest look at how you read people and evaluate why they behave as they do so you can “fix” those things if they need work. 🥹❤️🫶🏻
I love that you get it, Elaine. Once you've had the wealthy controlling sort every cell in your body screams "not that!" I read Paul your comment and he's very glad he didn't seem "not a catch" to you and a few others! I guess my need to understand people and give them the benefit of the doubt (if you understand why, it is easy to move through it) is down to getting so battered and bruised by my *lack* of understanding when I was younger!
I think people have value in being intelligent (academically or naturally); being kind, caring, and supportive; and no longer in the “traditional” markers. Maybe not everyone thinks that but my first husband had everything on paper but wanted me to “serve” his needs rather than meeting each other’s — but my second husband has given me the space to create and truly live my dreams—and that’s not always done financially as I’m also the bread winner in our marriage. So the fact your husband is all the things you want in a partner (including fire in bed 😉) definitely makes him a catch. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 My husband does most of the domestic load, is great in bed, reads all my writing, gives me space to create, is incredibly kind and loving, and best of all, makes me laugh every day. 🥰❤️ I love love stories and when people find their people, whatever that looks like.
Interesting start, Kim! I never realised anything good could arise out of meat market situations, so there you go. Life is full of miracles. There are red flags right there and yet... they weren't after all. And that in itself is just beautiful. Because we're not checkboxes. If you find the way to connect with the full human, there is always hope.
I used to be a pretty good palm reader. And there was one thing that appeared to be consistently accurate. Looking between the heart line and the first joint of the pinkie, how many creases do you see? (Dominant hand). That's how many deep loves you'll have in your life. Granted it can slowly change over many years. I was fortunate in having 2. And though there aren't any more left, I know at 68 I've had a generous share. But what it showed me is that it's preordained. And if you give me a good old UK 'bollocks' I don't care. It is written on the hand and in the heart. So, you've got one of those I'm sure❣️
Dunno, Carl, I'm not sure I know what I'm looking at. I have loved four men deeply. Only one of them properly loved me back. But I'm in touch (tenuously) with the other three, still, because all four matter to me.
I met my future husband working at a Camphill school in Aberdeen. He spoke hardly any English, looked nothing like my ideal man, and I wasn’t looking for anything long term. I knew I was there for a year, I’d get my teaching qualification and I was going travelling. But he made my blood sing when I stood near him. My year was up and he followed me to Manchester and a year later we were married and buying a house and having babies. Still together 40 years later but sometimes I wonder what my life would have been if I’d gone travelling instead.
I’m ‘in love’ with both of these pieces, Ros… You’re an artist!
I listened to the Time’s article first… part of what made it so successful (in my humble opinion) was allowing Paul to be the nondescript, dull stone, covered with dust, and laying there among so many other stones. That was necessary to keep up the mystery of the tale (and allowed us to stumble into the delightful surprise ending). This companion piece is just as delicious. I would bet my beloved old camper trailer (I AM buying some paint and spiffing it up) that Paul considers himself a very lucky man. Sign me up for your and Paul’s next Tantric sex vacation getaway (surely you’re seasoned instructors by now). With my spiffed up little love shack I ought to be able to find an adventurous friend to come along with me 😉
I had been with my first boyfriend for 7 years. He was safe and salaried, a lovely person, but he had never talked about a future together. He was my first lover. The sex was disappointing and infrequent, but I loved him. Met a northern guy at the Christmas college party. He had no money (only debt), no prospects and offered no future security. We went to bed the same night and had amazing sex many, many times over the next 3 days. It was amazing. He made me laugh. We played music. Had baths together. But after all that, we said we'd just remain friends, because I had a long-term boyfriend ... But then the 2-week college holiday break kicked in and my Northerner went home to family 400 miles away.
It was like the worst kind of withdrawal. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was miserable, yet I was excited. Everyone kept saying how great I looked. I didn't want to see my poor boyfriend. I'm still ashamed to admit that I was unfaithful to him. We had a painful conversation on Christmas Eve and split up over the holidays. When my Northerner returned the sparks ran riot through us again. He said he would never let me go. And nearly 40 years later he never has.
He built a successful career, he kept me sane, made me happy and we had the children I never thought I would have.
This is SUCH a gorgeous story. Thank you for sharing it. I'm so glad you made the decision to leave the dull-sex boyfriend and go with your sparks-flying Northerner. Glorious.
The Good Girl inside tells you it is so wrong to give up a ‘nice man’ for the rampant sex … but there is something about lust becoming love. I loved your story too! Glad you had a happy ending :)
I 'outed' my current partner in my trilogy of More Ketchup than Salsa memoirs. Not because I wanted revenge (it crossed her mind that this was the reason), but because I felt it was a big part of our life story, and I wanted her to be understood as to why she had an affair with my best friend.
After I'd written that particular chapter, I reluctantly showed her, while I hid in a locked wardrobe. Admittedly, she red-penned much of it, but she had the courage to allow me to publish what remained.
I bow to her bravery, and to your husband's fortitude in allowing their writerly partners to hold them up to be judged. Ironically - or perhaps, inevitably - it's us authors who are judged more for spotlighting our loved ones' imperfections.
LOVE your story on Modern Love in The NYT, Ros. And what great exposure for you! The companion piece is equally wonderful. The way people come together often hinges on such brief encounters it seems miraculous when it leads to a long-term relationship.
Congrats on getting your piece into the NYT! It was a brilliant read and a great story. Out of curiosity, how much time passed between you submitting your essay and hearing from their editor? I’ve been told that sometimes it can take months to hear back.
I’m not sure what I’m going to write. Sitting on a very drafty beach at Whitsands, Gower, with my daughter Phoebe having taken a quick weekend break. I love your writing as you know. Always heartfelt and always to the point. I suppose my overriding feeling is envy. I was always ‘sweet Steve’ at school but never ‘got the girl’. I feel like I’m a pretty darned good human being and have found an amazing woman except her libido dropped off a cliff and she had zero interest in sex. I go round in circles thinking I deserve ‘better’ then think ‘yes but this is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and she wants to be with me’ so then I think there must be something ‘wrong’ with me and then I think ‘hang on’ sex is a powerful and wholly normal human drive so no there’s nothing wrong. Hmmm…
I’m not sure I have a trope except perhaps in the past was chosen rather than chose. I chose Ali though wholeheartedly.
I married someone I probably shouldn’t have because I needed a mother for my daughters (so I tell myself) but then without her I wouldn’t be here and I am the happiest I have probably been or shall I say the most content.
Loved the “Modern Love” column, as well as this follow-up! It was fun learning more about how you and Paul got together. It really makes you think about the profound effect that a single decision—e.g., a trip to Costa Rica—can have on one’s life.
Yes, what a huge knock-on effect that had. Even bigger than that though was the fact we wouldn't know each other at all if his friend hadn't seen me read a poem on a "read your poetry better" training workshop and suggested to Paul that he book me (for no money, of course). Months later, I came back from being away to find a note dropped through my door, giving me almost no notice, and if I hadn't been able to find a last-minute babysitter...
Sometimes I read other peoples love stories and I have this funny wish to do it all over again, even though I already have mine!
I come from a generation (and social circle) that never took marriage as a given, but I always wanted it. By 29, I could see where we were all headed, my friends and I: still utterly hedonistic, hooked on festivals, allergic to jobs, scathing critics of the "system", and yet all yearning for children and a love story. How were we going to reconcile that?
My CV was a mess, I had travel stories in abundance but no savings, I had recently moved to the "spiritual capital" of Australia where women apparently outnumbered men 2:1 and the men had no interest in commitment. Why should they? It's also the kind of place where Tantric workshops are commonplace and "conscious relating" was something to aspire to, but it was like everyone's standards got a little TOO high, and no one had any staying power.
He was a barefoot farmer, vegan, arrogant, bitter from a lifetime of rejection from women (in his view). Similarly penniless, he drove an old Sazuki Sierra with no roof that had been his first car. He didn't believe in accumulating wealth. I was looking for the father of my children and he was NOT a great prospect. But something drew us together. We met by chance at a local cafe in the small town where we both lived. We were lovers by evening and we began fighting within days.
The first few weeks were so tempestuous, I was exhausted and thought "I have to get out of this". But it was like we could both see through the armours and facades the other had put up, and the layers of stories and limiting personas, and we were determined to break them down for each other. It was quite push-pull for the first year, but we "broke each other in" so to speak. After some time apart and me taking another lover, after leaving him with a letter and a sort of manifesto if what I thought our life could be like if we just chose each other and got on with it, he chased me down, and said he chose me, and we got on with it.
He proposed to me not long after my 31st birthday, then we accidentally spent a year apart due to covid border closures coming between us. The engagement kept us together, even though it felt tenuous at times. When we were reunited almost exactly a year later, this time in his home state of Tasmania, we conceived our first child within a week. We married in front of family and new and old friends in his parents' garden on a freezing autumn afternoon, it was gorgeous. I was pregnant with our second. We now have 2 incredibly perfect daughters and such a happy marriage.
He is a completely different man to the one I met 7 years ago, and yet he is exactly who I always saw he could be. Soft, devoted, utterly obsessed with me, also cooks me dinner every night! An incredible dad. An all-star lover. He still struggles with money, but I have taken on that role. We are half way to the dream life I envisioned in the letter I sent him all those years ago: we have the kids and the love and the community, we just have to buy the land and build our dream home next.
Sometimes I feel guilty for what I have compared to so many of my friends who are now approaching 40 without having realised their longing for a family. Ours was a generation suspicious of relationship, which made laying those essential foundations so hard. But what we've built did not come easy. And what we found when the dust settled were two very tender inner children who, had we met before the world hardened us, would've been the very best of friends.
Thank you for the prompt!
This is such a beautiful, beautiful story, Gabrielle. With all its twists and turns. I recognise so much of it. Especially the fighting early on, the battling through, the "breaking each other in". This is post Costa Rica. We were so conscious of what we were doing (like you do): you could see the label "OLD shit" on almost everything that surfaced as we both feared getting closer, trusting again. I figured at the time, it was almost like getting break-up arguments out of the way, doing it in reverse order! I love what you have built and are building. Stay in touch with me.
Aww love this so much. I don’t think you made him sound not like a catch in the piece but then again, I also had a controlling wealthier first husband and fell for the kind, amazing gem of a man who didn’t value any of those things so I’d like to think I “get it.” I’ve been with my second husband for nine years and counting and I’m ever so grateful. So glad you’ve found your happiness and I love this raw, honest look at how you read people and evaluate why they behave as they do so you can “fix” those things if they need work. 🥹❤️🫶🏻
I love that you get it, Elaine. Once you've had the wealthy controlling sort every cell in your body screams "not that!" I read Paul your comment and he's very glad he didn't seem "not a catch" to you and a few others! I guess my need to understand people and give them the benefit of the doubt (if you understand why, it is easy to move through it) is down to getting so battered and bruised by my *lack* of understanding when I was younger!
I think I also lacked understanding when younger and got bruised emotionally too!
I think people have value in being intelligent (academically or naturally); being kind, caring, and supportive; and no longer in the “traditional” markers. Maybe not everyone thinks that but my first husband had everything on paper but wanted me to “serve” his needs rather than meeting each other’s — but my second husband has given me the space to create and truly live my dreams—and that’s not always done financially as I’m also the bread winner in our marriage. So the fact your husband is all the things you want in a partner (including fire in bed 😉) definitely makes him a catch. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 My husband does most of the domestic load, is great in bed, reads all my writing, gives me space to create, is incredibly kind and loving, and best of all, makes me laugh every day. 🥰❤️ I love love stories and when people find their people, whatever that looks like.
Well, we met in Texas at what was then called a “meat market” so there's that.
He looked like an ex I left in Colorado.
He was sort of telling me what I wanted on the first night.
We've never been apart in 40 years, save the two times I went on a girl’s cruise.
Interesting start, Kim! I never realised anything good could arise out of meat market situations, so there you go. Life is full of miracles. There are red flags right there and yet... they weren't after all. And that in itself is just beautiful. Because we're not checkboxes. If you find the way to connect with the full human, there is always hope.
I used to be a pretty good palm reader. And there was one thing that appeared to be consistently accurate. Looking between the heart line and the first joint of the pinkie, how many creases do you see? (Dominant hand). That's how many deep loves you'll have in your life. Granted it can slowly change over many years. I was fortunate in having 2. And though there aren't any more left, I know at 68 I've had a generous share. But what it showed me is that it's preordained. And if you give me a good old UK 'bollocks' I don't care. It is written on the hand and in the heart. So, you've got one of those I'm sure❣️
Dunno, Carl, I'm not sure I know what I'm looking at. I have loved four men deeply. Only one of them properly loved me back. But I'm in touch (tenuously) with the other three, still, because all four matter to me.
You may just have the one then, which is typically the case.
Just read your Costa Rica story in the NYTimes. Jesus, what fun! Great writing.
Thanks, Julie!
I met my future husband working at a Camphill school in Aberdeen. He spoke hardly any English, looked nothing like my ideal man, and I wasn’t looking for anything long term. I knew I was there for a year, I’d get my teaching qualification and I was going travelling. But he made my blood sing when I stood near him. My year was up and he followed me to Manchester and a year later we were married and buying a house and having babies. Still together 40 years later but sometimes I wonder what my life would have been if I’d gone travelling instead.
I’m ‘in love’ with both of these pieces, Ros… You’re an artist!
I listened to the Time’s article first… part of what made it so successful (in my humble opinion) was allowing Paul to be the nondescript, dull stone, covered with dust, and laying there among so many other stones. That was necessary to keep up the mystery of the tale (and allowed us to stumble into the delightful surprise ending). This companion piece is just as delicious. I would bet my beloved old camper trailer (I AM buying some paint and spiffing it up) that Paul considers himself a very lucky man. Sign me up for your and Paul’s next Tantric sex vacation getaway (surely you’re seasoned instructors by now). With my spiffed up little love shack I ought to be able to find an adventurous friend to come along with me 😉
Yes. It can be a little unfair to write about spouses, especially if you have a sense of humor. My husband definitely knows this from experience too.
I had been with my first boyfriend for 7 years. He was safe and salaried, a lovely person, but he had never talked about a future together. He was my first lover. The sex was disappointing and infrequent, but I loved him. Met a northern guy at the Christmas college party. He had no money (only debt), no prospects and offered no future security. We went to bed the same night and had amazing sex many, many times over the next 3 days. It was amazing. He made me laugh. We played music. Had baths together. But after all that, we said we'd just remain friends, because I had a long-term boyfriend ... But then the 2-week college holiday break kicked in and my Northerner went home to family 400 miles away.
It was like the worst kind of withdrawal. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was miserable, yet I was excited. Everyone kept saying how great I looked. I didn't want to see my poor boyfriend. I'm still ashamed to admit that I was unfaithful to him. We had a painful conversation on Christmas Eve and split up over the holidays. When my Northerner returned the sparks ran riot through us again. He said he would never let me go. And nearly 40 years later he never has.
He built a successful career, he kept me sane, made me happy and we had the children I never thought I would have.
Isn't love/sex strange and wonderful???
This is SUCH a gorgeous story. Thank you for sharing it. I'm so glad you made the decision to leave the dull-sex boyfriend and go with your sparks-flying Northerner. Glorious.
The Good Girl inside tells you it is so wrong to give up a ‘nice man’ for the rampant sex … but there is something about lust becoming love. I loved your story too! Glad you had a happy ending :)
I 'outed' my current partner in my trilogy of More Ketchup than Salsa memoirs. Not because I wanted revenge (it crossed her mind that this was the reason), but because I felt it was a big part of our life story, and I wanted her to be understood as to why she had an affair with my best friend.
After I'd written that particular chapter, I reluctantly showed her, while I hid in a locked wardrobe. Admittedly, she red-penned much of it, but she had the courage to allow me to publish what remained.
I bow to her bravery, and to your husband's fortitude in allowing their writerly partners to hold them up to be judged. Ironically - or perhaps, inevitably - it's us authors who are judged more for spotlighting our loved ones' imperfections.
LOVE your story on Modern Love in The NYT, Ros. And what great exposure for you! The companion piece is equally wonderful. The way people come together often hinges on such brief encounters it seems miraculous when it leads to a long-term relationship.
I didn't think you trashed him at all!
He did, though!
Congrats on getting your piece into the NYT! It was a brilliant read and a great story. Out of curiosity, how much time passed between you submitting your essay and hearing from their editor? I’ve been told that sometimes it can take months to hear back.
Seven weeks exactly :-) Thanks, Petra, very glad you enjoyed it.
Enjoyed it very much and well done again!!
I’m not sure what I’m going to write. Sitting on a very drafty beach at Whitsands, Gower, with my daughter Phoebe having taken a quick weekend break. I love your writing as you know. Always heartfelt and always to the point. I suppose my overriding feeling is envy. I was always ‘sweet Steve’ at school but never ‘got the girl’. I feel like I’m a pretty darned good human being and have found an amazing woman except her libido dropped off a cliff and she had zero interest in sex. I go round in circles thinking I deserve ‘better’ then think ‘yes but this is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and she wants to be with me’ so then I think there must be something ‘wrong’ with me and then I think ‘hang on’ sex is a powerful and wholly normal human drive so no there’s nothing wrong. Hmmm…
I’m not sure I have a trope except perhaps in the past was chosen rather than chose. I chose Ali though wholeheartedly.
I married someone I probably shouldn’t have because I needed a mother for my daughters (so I tell myself) but then without her I wouldn’t be here and I am the happiest I have probably been or shall I say the most content.
Best people ❤️❤️
You also 💜💜💜
Loved the “Modern Love” column, as well as this follow-up! It was fun learning more about how you and Paul got together. It really makes you think about the profound effect that a single decision—e.g., a trip to Costa Rica—can have on one’s life.
Thanks, Chris. I'm glad you enjoyed them both.
Yes, what a huge knock-on effect that had. Even bigger than that though was the fact we wouldn't know each other at all if his friend hadn't seen me read a poem on a "read your poetry better" training workshop and suggested to Paul that he book me (for no money, of course). Months later, I came back from being away to find a note dropped through my door, giving me almost no notice, and if I hadn't been able to find a last-minute babysitter...
That's wild. Everything had to align in such a specific way. I love thinking about these kinds of things (as you know).
Me too. It’s wild indeed.