Falling in love.

Transport yourself away from all the gloom and doom and think back to when (or if) you have fallen in love.

Did it last? Was he/she the love or your life? Has it happened many times in your life?

If you are single are you still waiting for love to come a calling...or have you given up on all that?


I'm sure your love story is interesting to others....it is to me anyway.

Is everyone shy of talking about love on here?

Let's stick to all the bad stuff in life then....who do you actually hate in real life??

Syl wrote:Is everyone shy of talking about love on here?

Let's stick to all the bad stuff in life then....who do you actually hate in real life??

I hate mosquitoes.

And while I continue to seek out relationships, I'm sorta planning on spending my life without a committed one.

Does falling in love with food count?

Cass wrote:Does falling in love with food count?

No Cass, I want romantic stories.

Maddog wrote:And while I continue to seek out relationships, I'm sorta planning on spending my life without a committed one.  

It's good to be optimistic, you never know what's round the next corner.

You obviously have been in love, you have three gorgeous girls as proof of that.

Syl wrote:

Cass wrote:Does falling in love with food count?

No Cass, I want romantic stories.

Piffle.

Fine then. When I met Mr. C in a military pub, (my roommate was dating a soldier), I was a bit wary. I had gotten out of a terribly abusive relationship about 6 months before. I wasn’t looking for anything long term but enjoyed getting chatted up as it helped rebuild my non-existent self esteem. He was drunk but we had a laugh and I agreed to meet him the next night cause he was cute, had a Scottish accent and a great butt. I drove him and his friend back to their barracks and as his friend heaved him out of my mini, his friend kept saying please please meet him cause he really likes you. I was like yeah I have heard that before, pull the other one. But his friend was sober and serious. Fine. I agreed. I named a time and place.

The next night I showed up with a friend just in case and he was nowhere to be seen. Screw him I thought. So we took off for another pub for one for the road and as we were walking in, he was walking out with a different friend. I said something along the lines of you lying twat, your loss and carried on into the pub. By the time I got a drink he was standing behind me looking very contrite and apologizing. I thought ok I’ll sit and chat and then go. Apparently he had been very drunk the night before because he was afraid of talking to me and had been watching me for 6 weeks, according to this other friend (apparently they all knew this and kept telling him to say something to me) who said this out loud in front of him. The friend from the night before was on duty so Mr. C was very fuzzy on the date details. Couldn’t really remember my name or the place but just the time, that I was American and sometimes wore glasses and liked southern comfort lime and lemonade (not anymore but that’s another story). We ended up chatting for hours. Again I drove him back and I was impressed that he didn’t lunge at me like others had in the past few months. I did let him kiss me on the cheek. Well he called me every night and we met up when we could. 4 weeks later my friend and I moved into a new flat and on the third night I picked him up and brought him back and fed him a homemade lasagna. It would have fed four people. He ate for three (his mother was a terrible cook if she cooked at all and the army food at that time was, shall we say, less appetizing than cat barf. The next night he stayed over and well that was it more or less. 5 months later we moved into our own place and 8 months after that we got married. We chose my engagement ring and gave it to me over a lunchtime pizza date. He knew me well.

32 1/2 years later here we are. There are times when I absolutely hated him and vice versa. Many ups and many downs but we stuck at it. At night when we are in bed and I’m reading and his snoring is driving me crazy, I put in my earplugs and smile and give thanks that he got up the courage to speak to me. Then I kick him ever so gently and lovingly and carry on reading.

Now that is out of the way, my love for food. My mum is a good cook and so we’re my grandmothers but food didn’t become a thing till my parents took us to Paris when I was 11. We had picked up ham baguettes, cheese and fruit and orangina to take as a picnic to Versailles. After touring the chateau which blew my mind, we went out into the park to go to Marie Antoinette’s Hameau where I flounced around pretending to be her, obviously before the revolution and beheading. We sat down and I bit into that baguette and my mind was blown again. The cheese sealed the deal. The great love affair with food and with France began that very moment.

cass, i love the story of you and Mr c xx

also

''flouncing around pretending to be Marie Antionette''

i was cracking up at that but that was cos i imagined it in real time. i had to remind myself that you were only 11 at the time (or so you say)

Cass wrote:

Syl wrote:

Cass wrote:Does falling in love with food count?

No Cass, I want romantic stories.

Piffle.

Fine then. When I met Mr. C in a military pub, (my roommate was dating a soldier), I was a bit wary. I had gotten out of a terribly abusive relationship about 6 months before. I wasn’t looking for anything long term but enjoyed getting chatted up as it helped rebuild my non-existent self esteem. He was drunk but we had a laugh and I agreed to meet him the next night cause he was cute, had a Scottish accent and a great butt.  I drove him and his friend back to their barracks and as his friend heaved him out of my mini, his friend kept saying please please meet him cause he really likes you. I was like yeah I have heard that before, pull the other one. But his friend was sober and serious. Fine. I agreed. I named a time and place.

The next night I showed up with a friend just in case and he was nowhere to be seen. Screw him I thought. So we took off for another pub for one for the road and as we were walking in, he was walking out with a different friend. I said something along the lines of you lying twat, your loss and carried on into the pub. By the time I got a drink he was standing behind me looking very contrite and apologizing. I thought ok I’ll sit and chat and then go. Apparently he had been very drunk the night before because he was afraid of talking to me and had been watching me for 6 weeks, according to this other friend (apparently they all knew this and kept telling him to say something to me) who said this out loud in front of him. The friend from the night before was on duty so Mr. C was very fuzzy on the date details. Couldn’t really remember my name or the place but just the time, that I was American and sometimes wore glasses and liked southern comfort lime and lemonade (not anymore but that’s another story). We ended up chatting for hours. Again I drove him back and I was impressed that he didn’t lunge at me like others had in the past few months. I did let him kiss me on the cheek. Well he called me every night and we met up when we could. 4 weeks later my friend and I moved into a new flat and on the third night I picked him up and brought him back and fed him a homemade lasagna. It would have fed four people. He ate for three (his mother was a terrible cook if she cooked at all and the army food at that time was, shall we say, less appetizing than cat barf. The next night he stayed over and well that was it more or less. 5 months later we moved into our own place and 8 months after that we got married. We chose my engagement ring and gave it to me over a lunchtime pizza date. He knew me well.

32 1/2 years later here we are. There are times when I absolutely hated him and vice versa. Many ups and many downs but we stuck at it. At night when we are in bed and I’m reading and his snoring is driving me crazy, I put in my earplugs and smile and give thanks that he got up the courage to speak to me. Then I kick him ever so gently and lovingly and carry on reading.

Now that is out of the way, my love for food. My mum is a good cook and so we’re my grandmothers but food didn’t become a thing till my parents took us to Paris when I was 11. We had picked up ham baguettes, cheese and fruit and orangina to take as a picnic to Versailles. After touring the chateau which blew my mind, we went out into the park to go to Marie Antoinette’s Hameau where I flounced around pretending to be her, obviously before the revolution and beheading. We sat down and I bit into that baguette and my mind was blown again. The cheese sealed the deal. The great love affair with food and with France began that very moment.

You know you've done well when a proposal comes with pizza. Perfection

Cass wrote:

Syl wrote:
No Cass, I want romantic stories.

Piffle.

Fine then. When I met Mr. C in a military pub, (my roommate was dating a soldier), I was a bit wary. I had gotten out of a terribly abusive relationship about 6 months before. I wasn’t looking for anything long term but enjoyed getting chatted up as it helped rebuild my non-existent self esteem. He was drunk but we had a laugh and I agreed to meet him the next night cause he was cute, had a Scottish accent and a great butt.  I drove him and his friend back to their barracks and as his friend heaved him out of my mini, his friend kept saying please please meet him cause he really likes you. I was like yeah I have heard that before, pull the other one. But his friend was sober and serious. Fine. I agreed. I named a time and place.

The next night I showed up with a friend just in case and he was nowhere to be seen. Screw him I thought. So we took off for another pub for one for the road and as we were walking in, he was walking out with a different friend. I said something along the lines of you lying twat, your loss and carried on into the pub. By the time I got a drink he was standing behind me looking very contrite and apologizing. I thought ok I’ll sit and chat and then go. Apparently he had been very drunk the night before because he was afraid of talking to me and had been watching me for 6 weeks, according to this other friend (apparently they all knew this and kept telling him to say something to me) who said this out loud in front of him. The friend from the night before was on duty so Mr. C was very fuzzy on the date details. Couldn’t really remember my name or the place but just the time, that I was American and sometimes wore glasses and liked southern comfort lime and lemonade (not anymore but that’s another story). We ended up chatting for hours. Again I drove him back and I was impressed that he didn’t lunge at me like others had in the past few months. I did let him kiss me on the cheek. Well he called me every night and we met up when we could. 4 weeks later my friend and I moved into a new flat and on the third night I picked him up and brought him back and fed him a homemade lasagna. It would have fed four people. He ate for three (his mother was a terrible cook if she cooked at all and the army food at that time was, shall we say, less appetizing than cat barf. The next night he stayed over and well that was it more or less. 5 months later we moved into our own place and 8 months after that we got married. We chose my engagement ring and gave it to me over a lunchtime pizza date. He knew me well.

32 1/2 years later here we are. There are times when I absolutely hated him and vice versa. Many ups and many downs but we stuck at it. At night when we are in bed and I’m reading and his snoring is driving me crazy, I put in my earplugs and smile and give thanks that he got up the courage to speak to me. Then I kick him ever so gently and lovingly and carry on reading.

Now that is out of the way, my love for food. My mum is a good cook and so we’re my grandmothers but food didn’t become a thing till my parents took us to Paris when I was 11. We had picked up ham baguettes, cheese and fruit and orangina to take as a picnic to Versailles. After touring the chateau which blew my mind, we went out into the park to go to Marie Antoinette’s Hameau where I flounced around pretending to be her, obviously before the revolution and beheading. We sat down and I bit into that baguette and my mind was blown again. The cheese sealed the deal. The great love affair with food and with France began that very moment.

I was so interested in reading your story I forgot I was reading it on Eilzels post, and I gave him the 'Thanks' instead of you Cass.
You will have to settle for a .

I LOVE your story, thanks so much, I had a feeling you would come up with a good one.

It's odd, if we find out someone has been fancying us and watching us for several weeks without us being aware, it can either make us run for the hills....or intrigue us into wanting to find out more. Over 32 years later ... you obviously made the right choice.

When I was young I saw the film Dr Zhivago and fell in love with Omar Sharif.

10 years later, I was working in a club in town, called a cab to take me home, and a young Omar Sharif lookalike walked in, winked, said 'Taxi for Sylvia'....and that was it really.

Little did I know, like Cass's husband, he had already seen me about and been asking questions of who I was, I found that out later.

I actually thought he was cocky, played hard to get, but he was persistent, and initial lust turned into love, and through many ups and downs, and just like Cass said, times when I am sure we have both thought it wouldn't last, in the end, the good times have always won through over the bad times.

We still argue like mad, both seldom sulk, I am fiery, he walks away (that drives me mad) we have different views on loads of stuff.

However, we always agree on family matters, both like doing the same things and going to the same places, we make each other laugh a lot as well as drive each other mad, and this year we will have been married 47 years, we have in fact, grown old together.
I don't see an old man when I look at him and he still thinks I look the same as when we first met (one good thing with ageing is the eyesight plays tricks)

And oddly enough, the club I was working in when my taxi driver walked in and winked, a few months later Omar Sharif, who had been competing in a Bridge tournament in Manchester, actually came in with a prebooked party.
He(in the flesh) wasn't anything like he had appeared in the film....he looked a lot older than I expected, but he was very nice.
He posed for a pic behind one of the bars.



My OH.

He does look like Omar Sharif, only younger. You fell in love with those eyes, dint you Syl?

Original Quill wrote:He does look like Omar Sharif, only younger.  You fell in love with those eyes, dint you Syl?

I think it was the tie that swept her off her feet.

Original Quill wrote:He does look like Omar Sharif, only younger.  You fell in love with those eyes, dint you Syl?

Lol....They do say eyes are the window to the soul. ...or something like that.

And Maddog....those ties were all the rage back then, one day they will come back into fashion too.

Anyway you two....dont you want to share your stories of how you fell in love??
Even if it didn't last, it still happened.

Syl wrote:And oddly enough, the club I was working in when my taxi driver walked in and winked, a few months later Omar Sharif, who had been competing in a Bridge tournament in Manchester, actually came in with a prebooked party.
He(in the flesh) wasn't anything like he had appeared in the film....he looked a lot older than I expected, but he was very nice.
He posed for a pic behind one of the bars.



My OH.

your OH is quite something, syl

definite film star looks there

Syl wrote:And Maddog....those ties were all the rage back then, one day they will come back into fashion too.

They already have...two or three times, at least.

Syl wrote:Anyway you two....dont you want to share your stories of how you fell in love??
Even if it didn't last, it still happened.

Guy stories are much less romantic.  Much more practical:

We met at the laundromat,  I asked her if she wanted a beer.  Third date ... we shagged.  Three months ... marriage.  Seven months ... first child.  By then, I knew I had to get a job.

Stuff like that.

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:He does look like Omar Sharif, only younger.  You fell in love with those eyes, dint you Syl?

Lol....They do say eyes are the window to the soul. ...or something like that.

And Maddog....those ties were all the rage back then, one day they will come back into fashion too.

Oh, I remember those things.

I'll stay out of this, since sometimes it feels like about half of this forum is about mine and eddie's love story

Ben Reilly wrote:I'll stay out of this, since sometimes it feels like about half of this forum is about mine and eddie's love story

Well you could write about when you realised you were falling in love....which would probably be about 18 months after half the members here had sussed it. 

Original Quill wrote:

Syl wrote:Anyway you two....dont you want to share your stories of how you fell in love??
Even if it didn't last, it still happened.

Guy stories are much less romantic.  Much more practical:

We met at the laundromat,  I asked her if she wanted a beer.  Third date ... we shagged.  Three months ... marriage.  Seven months ... first child.  By then, I knew I had to get a job.

Stuff like that.

Guys like Shakespeare managed to be a bit more romantic than that.....thankfully.

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

Guy stories are much less romantic.  Much more practical:



Stuff like that.

Guys like Shakespeare managed to be a bit more romantic than that.....thankfully.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexuality_of_William_Shakespeare#:~:text=Rowse's%20conviction%20on%20this%20point,him%20was%20always%20unimpeachably%20heterosexual.

Original Quill wrote:

Syl wrote:
Guys like Shakespeare managed to be a bit more romantic than that.....thankfully.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexuality_of_William_Shakespeare#:~:text=Rowse's%20conviction%20on%20this%20point,him%20was%20always%20unimpeachably%20heterosexual.

Thankfully for him he didn't live in modern times. His exploits would have filled social media and press.

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexuality_of_William_Shakespeare#:~:text=Rowse's%20conviction%20on%20this%20point,him%20was%20always%20unimpeachably%20heterosexual.

Thankfully for him he didn't live in modern times. His exploits would have filled social media and press.

Correct. RW'ers would have had a field day with Shakespeare. Anything that is new, original or out-of-the-beaten-path, is the enemy for them. Everything that looks backwards is good; anything that looks forward, is evil.

It's not for nothing that the slogan of the RW is MAG--AGAIN. Return to the past. Don't innovate or originate. Anti-science. Anti-literature. Anti-survival.

I am not a great one for blanket generalisations Quill.
We have the Labour and Conservatives as our two main parties. Not all Cons are avid RW not all Labour are rabid LW, there is a mix in most people, just are there surely are between the supporters of your two parties.
It's always better to judge people on who they are, what they say, etc than the political party they support.

Syl wrote:I am not a great one for blanket generalisations Quill.

Nor am I. The generalization must fit the content, and if the content is outsized or involves more categories, one must qualify, or perhaps restructure your statement.

When I speak of RW'ers, I am trying to fit the category to the content. Sometimes I use Republicans or Tories, or both; sometimes I mean all conservatives; sometimes I speak of all RW'ers, inclusively. Generalizing, to be true, is a reflection of truth; so, it takes as much responsibility as truth.

But a generalization is still useful in identifying the tendencies. Generalizations are, at best, expressed in percentages. So, obviously, some individuals don't fit. But generalizations still are useful...think how hard your life would be if, instead of generalizing, you had to go down a list: Bob is this; Megan is that; Fern is this; Ida is that...and so on.

In this case I’m speaking of a totally inclusive tendency: RW’ers don’t like newness, and live in the past. Go to the word conservative, which with lower-case ‘c’ indicates a broad category as well, and you’ll see what I mean. As F.A. Hayek says, conservatives like to conserve; to conserve is to hold on to the past, to revere anything past, and concordantly, to dislike anything new. This is why there is antipathy between conservatives and new thought, new ideas, professors and higher education, and yes, the whole of science as an endeavor. Scientists keep developing ‘newness’, and damn tarnation, a conservative wants to MAG…AGAIN!.

But we're digressing. Let's get closer to the original topic, and leave Shakespeare alone.

Original Quill wrote:But we're digressing.  Let's get closer to the original topic, and leave Shakespeare alone.  

I am still waiting to hear your story.

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:But we're digressing.  Let's get closer to the original topic, and leave Shakespeare alone.  

I am still waiting to hear your story.

I already told you, in Songs that remind you of a person, place or time (page one):

CANADA...so special.  Fell in love with a goofy-noofie (interp: girl from Newfoundland).  Spent the year touring the 4th-Dimension Clubs in western Canada from Thunder Bay (then it was two cities, called Ft. William and Port Arthur), to Winnipeg (along the Pembina Highway), Regina (greatest university town in Canada), Calgary, Banff (♪...think I'll go out to Alberta...) and Vancouver ('Vancity').

Home to LA...never heard from her again.

A bit cryptic, 
You also wrote....


Canadians are the most beautiful people in the world.  They are the English, without the sins.  God love 'em, they are the most perfect people in the world. Their men love and protect their women, and their women love and support their men. It's beautiful.


So she was Canadian?

Syl wrote:A bit cryptic, 
You also wrote....

Canadians are the most beautiful people in the world.  They are the English, without the sins.  God love 'em, they are the most perfect people in the world. Their men love and protect their women, and their women love and support their men. It's beautiful.

So she was Canadian?

Well, she was from Newfoundland & Labrador.  That is the easternmost province of Canada.  What do you think?  

Original Quill wrote:

Syl wrote:A bit cryptic, 
You also wrote....

Canadians are the most beautiful people in the world.  They are the English, without the sins.  God love 'em, they are the most perfect people in the world. Their men love and protect their women, and their women love and support their men. It's beautiful.

So she was Canadian?

Well, she was from Newfoundland & Labrador.  That is the easternmost province of Canada.  What do you think?  

I am thinking unrequited love on your part.
A doomed love affair that even though you wanted it to, it was not meant to last.

Syl wrote:A bit cryptic, 
You also wrote....


Canadians are the most beautiful people in the world.  They are the English, without the sins.  God love 'em, they are the most perfect people in the world. Their men love and protect their women, and their women love and support their men. It's beautiful.


So she was Canadian?

So Canadians have to be of English ancestry?

Does their PM know this?

And something tells me the Native People would argue about their lack of sin.

Pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, and sloth....

I doubt many people, Canadian or not, manage to go a day without indulging in at least one of them.

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

Well, she was from Newfoundland & Labrador.  That is the easternmost province of Canada.  What do you think?  

I am thinking unrequited love on your part.
A doomed love affair that even though you wanted it to, it was not meant to last.

Still, it created fond memories.

Maddog wrote:So Canadians have to be of English ancestry?

No, but England did create Canada.  In 1867, the Province of Canada was joined with two other British colonies of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia through Confederation, forming a self-governing entity named Canada. The new country expanded by incorporating other parts of British North America, with British coaxing, finishing with Newfoundland and Labrador in 1949.

Canada, owing to a steady stream of liberal leaders, has done more for native Americans and other immigrants, than practically any other nation on earth.  Canadians are truly a 'giving' people.

Canada is what the US aspired to be, until the south stepped up and demurred.

Original Quill wrote:

Maddog wrote:So Canadians have to be of English ancestry?

No.

Better.

Maddog wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

No.

Better.

You don't like full explanations? You feel better with crisp and decisive answers?

That's an indication that you don't have a curious mind. You'll make a top gunny sergeant, but never an officer. Officers must understand strategy and tactics…and psychology...the deeper game.

Original Quill wrote:

Maddog wrote:

Better.  

You don't like full explanations?  You feel better with crisp and decisive answers?

That's an indication that you don't have a curious mind.  You'll make a top gunny sergeant, but never an officer.  Officers must understand strategy and tactics…and psychology...the deeper game.

Yeah, something like that.

Maddog wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

You don't like full explanations?  You feel better with crisp and decisive answers?

That's an indication that you don't have a curious mind.  You'll make a top gunny sergeant, but never an officer.  Officers must understand strategy and tactics…and psychology...the deeper game.

Yeah, something like that.

EXACTLY like that.

Original Quill wrote:

Maddog wrote:

Yeah, something like that.

  EXACTLY like that.

At least you're answer was concise and not a bunch drivel and pablum.

Progress!

Do you two mind, this thread is about love......stop aquabbling like a pair of girlies.

Syl wrote:Do you two mind, this thread is about love......stop aquabbling like a pair of girlies.

Sorry Syl, I had to put the dog-in-heat in her place.  Now, what were you saying about my darling goofy-noofy?

I enjoy talking about her because those were such warm, comfy times.  Maybe it wasn't love, but in retrospect a lot of love is just spending time together.  We just didn't have the occasion to spend time together.

We met on the Canadian Pacific train, just out of Port Arthur heading to Winnipeg.  She was heading to Vancouver to start a new life...which I admired because Vancouver is a huge city (second largest on the Pacific coast) and St. John's, Newfoundland is really backwoods.  I was going to Winnipeg to play a club there.  She got off the train and decided to travel with us.

You said before..."Still, it created fond memories", and that's the thing.

Every experience in life, long after it's over, leaves memories that stay with us for life. They can pop up at the most unexpected times and transport us back to where we were months, years, decades ago.
To have lovely memories of a special time in your life, spent with someone you cared deeply about is a gift.

Life moves on though, and we make new memories with new people.

My first serious boyfriend who I hadn't seen in many years managed to get in touch with a friend of a friend of a friend a few years ago. She phoned me up and said he had asked if I would meet up for old times sake. I refused because obviously I was married and felt there was no point.
I found out later he had died soon after requesting that meeting....and I think he just wanted to say a final goodbye.

Syl wrote:You said before..."Still, it created fond memories", and that's the thing.

Every experience in life, long after it's over, leaves memories that stay with us for life. They can pop up at the most unexpected times and transport us back to where we were months, years, decades ago.
To have lovely memories of a special time in your life, spent with someone you cared deeply about is a gift.

Life moves on though, and we make new memories with new people.

My first serious boyfriend who I hadn't seen in many years managed to get in touch with a friend of a friend of a friend a few years ago. She phoned me up and said he had asked if I would meet up for old times sake. I refused because obviously I was married and felt there was no point.
I found out later he had died soon after requesting that meeting....and I think he just wanted to say a final goodbye.

I tend to think you did the right thing. Even if he was on his deathbed (sounds like it), it is probably inappropriate to rekindle such feelings when you now have an intimate partner. You speak of a "special time in your life", and that shows that, though those times might be special, they were not meant to be permanent.

The permanent ones require time, not only past time, but future time. My goofy-noofy and I didn't have time, or occasion to make time. She ended up in Vancouver and I ended up in LA…geographically inconvenient, as these things go.

Original Quill wrote:

Syl wrote:You said before..."Still, it created fond memories", and that's the thing.

Every experience in life, long after it's over, leaves memories that stay with us for life. They can pop up at the most unexpected times and transport us back to where we were months, years, decades ago.
To have lovely memories of a special time in your life, spent with someone you cared deeply about is a gift.

Life moves on though, and we make new memories with new people.

My first serious boyfriend who I hadn't seen in many years managed to get in touch with a friend of a friend of a friend a few years ago. She phoned me up and said he had asked if I would meet up for old times sake. I refused because obviously I was married and felt there was no point.
I found out later he had died soon after requesting that meeting....and I think he just wanted to say a final goodbye.

I tend to think you did the right thing.  Even if he was on his deathbed (sounds like it), it is probably inappropriate to rekindle such feelings when you now have an intimate partner.  You speak of a "special time in your life", and that shows that, though those times might be special, they were not meant to be permanent.

The permanent ones require time, not only past time, but future time.  My goofy-noofy and I didn't have time, or occasion to make time.  She ended up in Vancouver and I ended up in LA…geographically inconvenient, as these things go.  

Goofy-noofy???

Syl wrote:

Original Quill wrote:

I tend to think you did the right thing.  Even if he was on his deathbed (sounds like it), it is probably inappropriate to rekindle such feelings when you now have an intimate partner.  You speak of a "special time in your life", and that shows that, though those times might be special, they were not meant to be permanent.

The permanent ones require time, not only past time, but future time.  My goofy-noofy and I didn't have time, or occasion to make time.  She ended up in Vancouver and I ended up in LA…geographically inconvenient, as these things go.  

Goofy-noofy???

Yes, goofy-noofy is a Canadian name for someone from the island of Newfoundland.  Apparently, Newfoundlanders are so isolated that they go stir-crazy, and either act differently, or say things differently.  Anyway, Canadians think they are a little 'tetched".  

I've encountered the same syndrome in Denmark, where the Danes have similar stories about people from the island Greenland.  One is that they go out in the dead of winter, with only shorts and no shirt...and complain about the heat.  They are...let us say, idiosyncratic.