A Happy Anniversary

Four years ago to the day, I was cuddled up with Matt in the LAX Hilton spending our very first night ever together. I had known him for two months, in contact by email and then by phone, and we had seized the moment, deciding to have a holiday together before he was dragged off to prison.

I phoned my Mum from Heathrow (in one of those I-might-die-in-a-plane-crash-and-I-want-to-say-a-proper-Goodbye-and-I-love-you-just-in-case moments) and she was very outwardly calm, bless her. She asked me (casually), “So how well do you know this bloke you are going all the way to America to meet?” “Oh, we go back centuries”, I explained (casually), convinced that would reassure her.

In retrospect, I can hardly believe that I flew 6,000 miles to take a vacation in the desert with a strange man that I had met on the internet, but at the time it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

I befriended a British actor during the flight, a warm, fascinating man called Tom Lockyer. He was rather charmed by my story of falling in love with Matt and before we each drifted off towards Passport Control in Los Angeles, he gave me a hug and wished me all the best. Back in London a few weeks later, I tracked Tom down through Spotlight and wrote to tell him that it had been a delight to talk with him and that everything had gone perfectly with Matt. He emailed me straight away and said that he had actually been in the arrivals area when I came through the gate. He had seen that very first moment when Matt spotted me, grinned and rolled towards me with a single red rose on his lap. Tom wrote: “I'm so happy and feel very privileged to have been there to witness such an amazingly romantic meeting. I wanted to cheer, but didn't!”

Of course, I only had eyes for my baby and hadn’t noticed Tom so it was a bit weird to find out afterwards that we had been observed but it made the surreal more real as well.

The holiday was magical in a million ways, 11 blissful days in Palm Springs, until I had to come home. I have no idea how I managed to make it down the walkway to the plane, knowing that it would be at least another two years until I could see my man again. And some days I still find it hard to believe that he is really here in London, in our flat, just a short walk or a phone call away and that he is the last thing I see before I sleep and the first thing I see in the morning and I can cuddle my beloved all night, every night.