We Met In A Nightclub…

Alright My Lover?

Ok so it wasn’t exactly a nightclub as such, not unless the flashing lights came from the torch being flickered on and off on my iPhone and the loud music came from my eclectic iTunes library. It was more of a virtual nightclub, and it definitely wasn’t in Birmingham, more like, in my bedroom and only one of us was drinking that night. Lets call that nightclub – ‘Plenty Of Fish’.

As much as Paul’s daughter asks, there really is no romantic story to tell about how we met, in some ways, I suppose it is, but I don’t think it’s quite worthy of a Nicholas Sparks novel just yet. When Lyla asks us to tell the story (which lately, she does quite often) she looks at us all doe-eyed and full of smiles as we tell her how Dayyyee messaged Emma, eventually took her on a date one snowy evening, smacked her backside as soon as she got out of the car and carried her when she couldn’t walk in the snow the next day wearing six inch heeled boots, four weeks post hysterectomy. We tell her how Dayyyee ate both meals and was the perfect gentlemen and how Emma still has the size 6 dress she wore in her wardrobe because she can’t part with it even though it no longer fits, not even slightly. Happiness and cake got me to a few sizes bigger.

Sometimes, I feel like our story isn’t really the Disney Princess tale an 8 year old little girl wants to hear, I feel like I’m not giving her enough hope that she will get the romance of Sleeping Beauty, but then I remember something, although our story isn’t exactly traditional, it’s very much reality and what she will learn is that the kind of love affair she deserves when she is much, much older (let’s say 75 if Paul has his way) is the kind of love affair Paul has given to me for the last 3 years, 5 months and 23 days.

I have always said, since day 1, I have been punching well above my weight with Paul, he’s all the things I wish I could be (except a male of course, there’s far to much pressure to give the performance of a lifetime in the sack when you’re a male). When I say he’s all the things I wish I could be, I mean, all the traits I don’t like about myself, he has in abundance and I really admire him for that. Not only that, but he’s seriously hot. RIDICULOUSLY. FUCKING. HOT. In fact, he’s so hot, on one of my best friends wedding day, she made damn sure she gave Paul’s peach of an arse a real good squeeze and my other best friend could probably forgive him for anything because “he’s just so pretty”. I love that my best friends think that about him, in fact, I love that the majority of my friends think he’s beautiful, even my little sister thinks he’s beautiful, and that’s good with me, because every night I get to fall asleep next to him and wake up to his not so beautiful morning breath. He’s that beautiful, I even kiss him with that morning breath!

Shallow bitch aside, he’s beautiful on the inside too. Before Paul, I had the same habit as most of us girls all do. I loved falling for the arseholes. I loved being with the ones who would cheat on me, make me feel like I was crazy in love and needed to be with them or I could never survive, I loved being with the ones who wouldn’t text me for days on end thinking that keeping me on my toes was the way forward. I loved being with the boys whose idea of romance was a box of 20 nuggets and a quick finger bash before they fell asleep and I loved the ones who would dump me by text just because they knew I’d be on my hands and knees begging for them to take me back. Paul is NONE of that. He’s the man who tells me I look beautiful when I wake up even though I know damn well I look like one of the BeeGees first thing. He’s the man who brings me home rice pudding after a bad day. He’s the man who encourages me to do my best because he believes in me. He’s the man who, when I once told him he was the centre of my Universe, reminded me that I was wrong. Beth is the centre and he’s the bits in between.

Paul is a provider, a real family man. He puts me and the 3 kids before everyone and anything and works his bollucks off to make sure we are all ok. His Dad is very much the same, and I hope one day, George will grow up to be like his Dad and so on. Paul’s Dad has raised two sons and to me, the three of them, are the best Fathers I have ever known. On our family holiday just last month, I watch the 3 of them in action and I felt so proud and humbled to be a part of their family. Even now, almost 2.5 hours after home time, Paul is still at work, he’s probably sat at his desk, tired and hungry, working for our family and feeling guilty for his work encroaching on our time together. What Paul doesn’t know is that yet again, I’ve over cooked the chicken that I so lovingly tried to prepare for his dinner. But as usual, he will come home and he will laugh about it because he knows that I tried and that cooking isn’t really my bag. Cooking is his demain, mine is to make the house look pretty.

I have always suffered from trust issues, when you’ve been shit on from great heights before, it makes you live life questioning peoples motives and loyalties. I’m lucky. For the first time in my life I’m not questioning anything. Paul is the guy who could fall face first into a barrel full of tits and emerge sucking his thumb like he never even noticed the DDs. He’s not a cheat, never has been a cheat and never will be. I always remember his ex wife telling me once that I would never have to worry about anything like that because he was loyal. And she was right. He is. Although, if Louise Rednapp ever showed up on my doorstep I’m pretty sure I’d have to turn a blind eye and make sure the bed sheets have been changed afterwards.

My best friend got to a point once upon a time when she would ban my then boyfriends from her house. If my best friend thinks you’re a knobhead, then sorry, but you are, and she’s rarely wrong.  But with Paul, she really thinks a lot of him, so much so that she allowed him to move me 90 miles away to live with him ( my other best friend however didn’t realise how far away it was until she visited and said if she’d known then, she wouldn’t have allowed it, but she would, I know it.) Paul knows just how much I struggle being away from everyone I love so much, he knows I miss my friends and how much I miss my brother and sister, he knows that leaving my little niece was a big move for me to make and he’s never once made me regret it, quite the opposite, he’s made sure that even on the not so good days, I’m still glad I made a home with him. Even if he now affectionately refers to me as his dickhead more than he calls me by any other term of endearment.

Paul really wants me to start driving but, driving is something I just cannot get the hang of, and so, I currently own an out of date provisional license and  a theory Book that is going to dust. This meant that our relationship for the first two years, was very long distance. In total, it was a 3 hour round trip to pick me up every Thursday and bring me back home on a Sunday night but he did it, he did it for us, and because he knew what we have is special. We bounce off each other, if my mood is pure dog shite, he will lift me up again and vice versa. Now I’m not saying we have never argued because we have and we do, usually because I’m on one for no reason whatsoever and he’s taking the brunt of it, or, because he’s not happy that I’ve spent money on crap again and we want to save. I remember when he came home from work once to find an alpaca ornament in the living room, I knew he wasn’t amused by it but he also knows that it made me smile and that’s good enough for him.

I struck lucky that night, in the imaginary nightclub, there’s no doubt about it. I mean, if the worst thing that can piss me off about him is the fact that when I play him a soppy song in the hope he will listen to the words and realise it’s what I feel about him instead of saying “what a boring tune”, then who am I to moan. I couldn’t have asked for a better life partner or StepDad to my child. And when I do talk daily about marriage and relentlessly sit pinteresting ‘Boho Barn Weddings’ and, as his best friend recently pointed out “Like every wedding page going on Facebook” I do it for one reason only, not because I’m in love with the idea of marriage, but because I am in love with him. hopelessly, ridiculously in love with him. (And because it will probably be the one and only time he might get to see me in matching underwear).

Online Dating For The Win.

Emma xox


2 thoughts on “We Met In A Nightclub…

    1. I’m glad you’re still liking them Judith. Hopefully you’ll continue to like them.
      Can I be cheeky & ask you to share with your friends please. Thanks for reading xxx


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