Once upon a love story

Well this is officially my first blog. So as we say here in Ireland cead mile failte romhat! I'm not sure what triggered me to write this blog, but I guess I want to have a little record of my journey, my moods, my headaches, my twinges with a sprinkling of my honest to god feelings.

Before I start into my medical journey - I think a little bit of background is required about how me and my partner met. This was the fun part! Although I hate to admit it, we met on a blind date. I got the phone call from my sister - saying she had met a 'lovely single man' at a dinner in a friend's house, had asked him would he do a blind date and when he agreed, called me immediately to start us on our merry way. It took a lot of convincing for me to go on it - I mean I really thought the kind of people that go on blind dates are rejects in the 'last chance' saloon, personality-less and lacking in social skills. It took me some convincing and I must admit, I downed two cosmopolitans (dutch courage) before I strutted into the Harcourt hotel to meet him, fashionably late, hair suitably coiffed and my best smile painted on. The date went well. To be honest, there were no sparks or anything, but I liked that he was a gentleman, had a lovely smile and seemed really sincere. Oh and he ordered the next drink before I'd even finished - thats what I call preparation. Did I also mention he was quite a passionate kisser? - He had a killer moves i.e. grabbed my back and pulled me into him (before I knew what was happening) for a tender kiss, soft and sensuous.

Our second date was more eventful, I decided I would rebel against the good guy and got very drunk. He arrived to find an inebriated thirty-something wannabe teenager at the bar. I had been used to the 'bad guy' - the love 'em and leave 'em types, so it was toxic shock syndrome to my system to have someone date me who was genuine. Needless to say, despite my obnoxious Bridget Jones drunkeness, he took it in true 'Darcy' fashion and got me safely home in a taxi. I think he had decided to "wash his hands of me." as his closing statement said it all - "think about what you want, then call me." I guess I suddenly realised when he was prepared to 'walk away' that I didn't want him to walk away.

There have been other dates when I had that sudden realisation he was 'the one' - like when I lost my passport a few hours before I was going on a work trip and he sat there, calming me down, as I heaved in rising and falling sobs of panic. He then made me go through all my steps over the past 24 hours coolly and methodically. Despite my red face, my moaning eyes and dishevelled appearance, he was still hanging around. He was a keeper.

So as time went on, I realised that I had possibly made the best friend of my life - you know someone who believes in you 110%, who wants the best for you and will always be there to support you.