When I first started thinking about my book moment, I didn’t really know what to choose. I’ve had a few incidents throughout my life that are reminiscent of famous books. For example I am as clumsy and socially inept as Bridget Jones, and I can probably list a few moments that would be worthy of a Nicholas Sparks novel; you know, the lovey dovey wishy washy stuff.
One thing that I have documented quite well on twitter was a postman who walked his way into my life. If this was within the pages of a romance novel, our eyes would have met across a doorstep, his sparkling blue, mine dish water brown, and we would have known then and there we were meant to be together.
Really, he turned up on the doorstep, I thought he was a bit of alright, I grabbed my post from him and slammed the door in his face, cognisant of the fact I looked like a tramp.
If there had been warning that my future husband was going to walk into my life, I might have had a bit more time to prepare. Alas, postmen seem to change like the direction of the wind so I waited a whole week to see his angelic face again. Unfortunately after two days of getting out of bed and attempting to make myself look mildly human and not seeing him, I decided to give up and go back to my slovenly ways. This wasn’t great when he knocked on the door and I had to greet him once again dressed in a track suit. (Not a chavvy one, I might add. Just a casual ‘I’m going to lay around the house all day and I don’t give a hoot’ one.)
By this point, the conversation was flowing well. He’d say hi, I’d say hi, he’d hand me my post, I’d say thanks, he’d say bye, I’d say bye and then we’d go our separate ways.
At this point I took to twitter to declare my love for him and ask for suggestions on how to get him into my bed, whoops sorry, I meant my heart.
There were some sensible suggestions from people like Victoria Stone who suggested I struck up a conversation and ask him his name. Then the not so sensible from James Bateman who mentioned shouting ‘I LOVE YOU’ in his face might do the trick.
I decided to try out Victoria’s tactic and was ready to pounce when he next turned up. As usual, we did the whole awkward post dance of him handing me post and me taking it (clumsily) from his grasp, all the while trying to maintain eye contact. He even realised I was a book reviewer and said, ‘wow! That’s a lot of reading to do!’ I laughed daintily, of course, and fluttered my eyelids and went to ask his name and realised my mouth wouldn’t work. By this point he was already half way back down the path, so I quickly closed the door and revelled in the eye contact we had just made. It was true love for sure.
(Ok, so he wasn’t as hot as the postman in Legally Blonde The Musical but, hot man pictures are lush and it’s good to have a bit of a mental image, right?)
I started to fantasise that now he knew my name and where I lived and that we were just so connected, he’d send me a bunch of flowers and a pile of books and declare his undying love for me (come on, that’d totally happen in a novel) but no, that didn’t seem to happen.
He then disappeared from my life almost as quickly as he appeared and I’ve never seen the postman/aka the love of my life since.
In my mind he was called Joe; he looked like a Joe. So based on this fool proof analysis I facebook’d the name Joe and searched for ages to try and find him.
Apparently his name isn’t Joe.
So here I am, months later, wallowing in self pity, self loathing and regret for never asking his bloody name.
Who knows, by now we could be married with our first child on the way.
I saw the way he looked at me….it was either pure unadulterated lust or pure terror. I like to think it was the former.
So I am husband-less and loveless and quite emosh that I haven’t yet found ‘The One’.
I’m still looking and you couldn’t knock me for trying, I’ll tell you, but no Mr Darcy has yet strode into my life and swept me off my feet. I mean maybe my Mr Darcy is already in my life and I just have to force him to somehow lift all *cough* stones of me briefly into the air and then claim I’ve been swept off my feet. (Boys if you’re reading, I’M SINGLE and not at all desperate).
So my book moment was kind of spoilt by reality. If we had been in a romance novel, Joe and I would have been having passionate sex in the middle of his round and I would have been sent that bunch of flowers. Not only that, he’d fancy the pants off me and want to make me his wife.
Damn it. If only that had happened.
But, like any good book, I’m going to sit patiently and watch my story unfold until I get to the part which will lead me to my happy ending. I’m sure it’s there somewhere, but for now, I’m just going to enjoy my journey…
(But, seriously, if you are single and look anything like this, let me know)
Or, if you have a pulse, that’ll be fine.
I would like to thank Laura for sharing her wonderfully witty book moment.