Meeting English Men – part 1

Posted on November 19, 2008 by yankeebean

yankeebeanMy grandma is an English war bride.  She’s an AMAZING woman and she got brought back to America by a strapping young soldier (score one for the American’s!!)

Back in the war, my Grandma would make 3 dates with 3 different men on the same Friday night.  She’d ask them all to meet her a different Tube entrance (there are 4 total) at the Marble Arch in London.  Then she’d come up the 4th entrance at Marble Arch Tube, take a look at the guy that looked the nicest, and go out with him that night.  She was a fire-cracker then and she’s STILL a fire-cracker now… fearless and amazing.

That’s how she met my Grandpa, and that’s how she went on to become an American resident and, eventually, an American citizen.

One of the many things that I have in common with the lovely and amazing peacefulyorkshire and pacificyorkshirebird is that I love a British man.  His name is Mr Nice Guy or NG (well, it is in this blog at least) and he is FREAKING AMAZING.  I know that lots of you will know how I feel, because it takes someone freaking amazing to make you leave your country and set up shop in a country that’s so obsessed with cakes chock-full of dried fruit (*shudder*).

I met NG when I did my A-levels in the south of England, he was in the same class as me.  I was half-way up a rock-climbing wall when someone with a cute English accent asked me if I liked the Smashing Pumpkins.

I very quickly became convinced that he was the most attractive and awesome person I’d ever met and we’d be together forever.  But what ACTUALLY happened was that I ended up TOTALLY infatuated with him and he did give a rip.  Not even remotely interested.  No amount of ameri-wit or hair flipping could lure him my way.

UNTIL…

The last slow dance of the senior prom.

No, I’m not kidding… that is how I finally got together with my English man.  It was the last slow dance and I had a crush to two guys (typically), both of whom I’d been chatting with at random points during prom.  Looking back I don’t remember much about British guy #2 that night… I don’t remember a single conversation, joke or dance.  But what I DO remember is the DJ saying that it was the final dance, and the Titanic song starts to play (noooooooo!!!!) and there were NG and #2 looking at me… waiting…

In an instant, NG held out his hand and smiled, and I took it.  And we danced, and laughed, and kissed for the first time.  And that was it… I was hooked… gones-ville… and after that I fell fast and hard, and never looked back!

Sometimes I wonder about that moment and wonder what would have happened if NG hadn’t held out his hand.  Where would I be now?  What I be doing?

There’s always those pivotal moments, I guess… I’m just really (really) glad that it happened the way it did.

Except that it was the Titanic song… :)

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  5. yankeebean November 19, 2008 at 9:40 pm

    This whole blog experience gives me a general feeling of being more at home here. Sometimes really strange things happen and it makes me feel like I’m the only American in the whole of the UK. But this blog makes it obvious that there’s a lot of us about!!

    I’ll call my grandma and see what she says :) She has THOUSANDS of stories!!

  6. pacificyorkshirebird November 19, 2008 at 9:24 pm

    Hi Meg – Thanks! We are really pleased that other American women are relating. Not only does it make us feel good to connect (even if only electronically) but it provides so much reassurance that it isn’t just us having these experiences. We can band together without spending a fortune on train tickets. :)

    I’ll be looking out for your blog too. I like reading about others’ experiences as much as I like to write (or rant) about my own.

    As for Yankeebean – think your grandma would like to guest blog for us? She sounds fascinating and wonderful! And I’m so glad NG held out his hand to you and that you are here in Yorkshire.

  7. Meg November 19, 2008 at 8:42 pm

    Just found this blog yesterday and must say that the three of you crack me up. Each time I read something one of you wrote, I think, ‘hey, that sounds like something I was thinking/would have said.’

    I love the little story about your grandma and the one of you and your NG as well. I didn’t meet my British husband in as profound a way, but still enjoyed your story — empathizing about the Titanic song as well, hehe.

    Wish I would have maybe kept my own blog anonymous, but too late to turn back now. In-laws read it regularly and I find myself having to censor it like crazy.

    Wish I was closer to Yorkshire so I could band together with fellow Americans…keep up the hilarity though! xx

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