Romance Part 2.

Ok where were we? Oh yes, the early signs of "heart trouble" evidenced in the videoing of the soccer game. (If you are new, I suggest you scroll back to Part 1 to begin at the beginning) Would you believe that (ag, I'm going to call DH 'Clay' for this story - that was his nickname at the time) - would you believe that he was injured badly enough to be taken of to hospital within the first 15 minutes of the game!? My reaction was distinctly strange, given our relationship, or rather, lack of it: thinking he wouldn't be back, I felt bereft, as though the light had gone out in the day. Everything suddenly seemed flat and boring. Until Clay came back to the field with his arm in a sling. He had broken his collar bone. Again, if I had been more aware, I would have noticed how territorial I suddenly felt about this man. And that the day had become bright and vibrant again. He was ok. And he was there. I'm smiling as I write this because I can 'feel the feelings' again now even after all those years. We were together for the rest of the afternoon - I actually remember nothing about anything else. Just that we were together. Oh danger! Danger! Bear in mind the huge obstacles to this relationship - oh, you don't know them yet, do you. This might be a good time to tell you then. # He was 23 and single, free as a bird. # I was 31 divorced, and mother of 3 young children That alone should have been enough # I was an emotional mess, insecure, defensive, needy but scared to be. # At his age, how would he ever be able to cope with a 'me'? # He was Afrikaans - so going out with an English girl? Just not on. # I was English - and didn't even like Offrikaners. # He was Navy # I had promised myself I wouldn't even date a sailor. You'd think, knowing all this that I would have turned him down flat when he invited me to go for a drink at the end of the game. But I didn't. Of course. Who does the sensible thing at a time like that! My 10 year older (soon to be ex) boyfriend, I'm ashamed to say, never even crossed my mind. So we went to a crummy little place in the town of Simon. A chunky sailor, fat, with red cheeks and frizzy hair, and all the sensitivity of a rhino, asked if he could come with us. His name was Chaney. Sweet guy. I see his face before me as I write And he played his role in our story because I don't know if things would have rolled out quite the way the did without him. Early in the evening, Clay excused himself to make a phone call - He later told me that he called a girl to break a date with her for that evening. (He pointed her out to me ages later: I was gobsmacked: she was gorgeous!) We and our 'chaperone' Chaney decided to head to a night spot in Cape Town - to make a longer night of it. The attraction was by this time unmistakeable and electric: what can compare with the first hand-holding; the first kisses? The dizziness of knowing the feelings are mutual? I remember those moments like yesterday: as does he. My fears of what that could mean would soon emerge though.