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...was first spotted, with a worried look on his face, moving a large lawn mower into a fourth floor, gardenless flat next to mine. He was, I discovered, to be my new neighbour.
For starters, his 5’ 8½” of height was well short of mine when I was perched on my killer heels. I had heard that he was freshly separated and had two young children, now living abroad, so I guessed there would be past-life pitfalls aplenty. I reminded myself that my avowed policy, as a singleton in this type of situation, was to run extremely fast in the opposite direction.
However, I couldn’t help but be just a little curious, so I spied on him that evening through my darkened window. A sight met my eyes that, in those days, would have made most women very nervous: he was washing up – OK, that’s great, I’ll allow – but wearing PINK rubber gloves! Sexy? No way!
Forget it; but yes, you’ve guessed, we grew to love each other madly and could not now be happier than we are – admittedly after having tiptoed around loads of old problems. Sebastian’s passion, romantic spirit, wit, kindness, boyish charm and twinkly green eyes still have me weak at the knees.
We’ve been married for years, but we’d never have got off the starting blocks if I’d stuck to that Perfect Partner List. As for finding a man who remembers to put down the toilet seat every time, forget it girls. But hey, it’s a small price to pay for true love.
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