Am at BG’s friends, Andy and Imogen’s house.
It’s been a big day.
BG won the big golf matchplay trophy, after we drove further up north to watch his 12 year old godson play football this morning. I drove said godson home afterwards when the big boys headed off to play golf, buying him an icecream and bag of lollies (BG always buys him a bag of lollies when he visits, so I carried the treat tradition on.)
All this, waking early to hit the road. I had about an hour’s sleep. Partly a debilitating headache. Partly a hell of a lot of sleep talk by BG. He was at it all night long.
On the way up, he asked me what he says. I always tell him I know all his secrets now.
Of course, most of it is gibberish. But sometimes things make sense. He cracks me up. Checking on me in his sleep. Asking staff to do things. That kind of thing.
Imogen heard he sleep talked. BG is her favourite friend. She really loves him. And said to me, “awww, he’s so sweet. You two are the damn cutest, I can’t bear it.”
Also, he got chatty on the road. And asked about my first pregnancy. About me discovering I was pregnant when I was in the UK.
And I explained that I was pretty much single. Roger had sorta dumped me. But we were writing to each other most days, and phoning when we could afford it. There was a lot of supposed care. He was my best friend. And telling him I was pregnant with his child was hard. I had already worked out that I would come home and Mum and her husband had offered to help me.
BG hadn’t heard that before.
I said, he asked me to come back, that should have been a red flag🚩. But I thought I did due diligence. I said there was no way I was coming home to him, when he asked me to, unless it was ME he wanted. Not the convenient mother and baby package. He needed to feel he couldn’t live without me in his life.
I didn’t need him. But I did always love him. He promised me he had never stopped loving me, just thought I needed to travel before life got too serious. So he pushed me out there.
Then BG said something quite interesting. He said he and his sisters grew up a bit loveless. That their view on love was jaded. That none had been successful in love. None had prioritised it. He hadn’t. He wished he was different.
I found that comment intriguing. Because, I know a fair bit about his past. Relationship-wise. And would agree. He wasn’t that excited about love. He never fell in love. Until his late 40s. That ended in heartbreak and her cheating on him.
But he’s the sweetest. He is loving. I just said, “that is an interesting thing to think about yourself. You have very loving relationships with family and friends. Really close, fun, caring friendships. You care about people. You treat me really well. You don’t SAY it much. But I FEEL loved and treasured. Valued.”
He was taken aback. He thinks he doesn’t love well. But says he feels he hit the jackpot in meeting me. Falling in love in his 50s, and with by far his best match. That he’s punching above his weight grade with me.
I beg to differ.
I think I’m so lucky.