LWBB! Before I found myself in a loving and committed relationship with Mr. Charismatic I had a tradition of giving nicknames to the men in my romantic life. Immediatly preceding Mr. Charismatic were The Logger, The Kicker, Coincidence Design Boy, oh and Marathon John. LWBB (Lost Wallet Brit Boy, now known as Mr. Charismatic) was named the night I drove him and 2 friends home from the expensive nightclub where I had earlier refused to go. For those of you who are worried about the extremely bad choice I made to take 3 drunk strangers home in my car, take comfort that I had a lovely lady friend following me in her car.
So, any respectable American night out ends in a trip to Taco Bell and this night was no different. Several minutes later I was having a goodbyeIloveyoualreadypleaselovemebackfortherestofmylife snog and then made my way home. Just hours later I was awake again heading to work (by the way this was 1.5 hours away in the car and is why I had intended to have an early night, but was out the window when the pivotal moment happened). I was already running late when I discovered that not one, but two wallets were left in the back seat of my car! Those sneaky boys, I thought! Secretly though I was so happy because I had a reason to see the gorgeous man again. So, with email address memorized already I arrived at work, announced to my coworker that I’d fallen in love the night before, and sent the email to let him know that I was working out of town but would return that evening. That email was the first of many accusations of the planted wallets in order to meet up again. He denies it still today. “It wasn’t even my wallet. Why would my friends do that with their valuables?” “Umm, maybe to meet my friends?”
Anyways, we met up that night (after he explained that by “half eight” he meant eight-thirty) to return the wallets but also to get to know each other a little better. He gave me a t-shirt from the company that he was working for and I wore flipflops (he’d made a drunken confession the night before that he thinks toes are cute). I knew that night that he was special. Somewhere in storage in America is a picture of the two of us that evening. I must dig it out someday.
A few weeks later he was back in the area (they traveled around to different soccer camps all summer) and we had one more lovely evening with friends and a few more sparks between us, and a brief few minutes where he met my mom… and then he got on a plane back to England. He sent emails full of terms of endearment and romantic ideas and feelings of missing me. No American man had ever been so open and emotional before. It was wonderful but miserable all at the same time! Would he ever come back? Was he seeing anyone else? Should I be seeing someone else? Was I silly to entertain the idea that we could be together???