My Snow White Christmas Kiss.
The night I was brought back to LIFE by my Asperger prince.
Today is my darling other half’s birthday. He’s still insisted though on bringing me my coffee and breakfast in bed, a routine he created when we first got together six years ago. It’s non-negotiable and if I dare sneak out to the kitchen while he’s snoring away perfectly at peace he will get upset and sulk for all of 30 seconds but that’s 30 seconds too long to waste now we’ve found each other.
To top off the perfect birthday morning he’s discovered a dusting of snow on the mountains through our bedroom window. So pillows plumped and curtains thrown back with the elan of P T Barnum we are sat up, surrounded by the wrapping paper he went at with the glee of a six-year-old (but which we will carefully preserve for seasonal repurposing) and tails wagging we are reviewing the ways we have changed each other’s experience of this life.
We met at a certain Business Club dinner I had been invited to attend as a prelude to pitching a training course to the armed forces. Sat quaffing and laughing politely with handsome colonels either side of me, I was hiding the fact that I was reeling from discovering my then-husband had been online dating for as long as the internet had existed.
I was there to work, to impress and to get a contract which would allow me to free myself from the financial prison he’d suckered me into over our 30 years together. I had it all figured out. Maintain the practical facade, gather the acceptable views to repeat throughout the process and toe the line, like I’d always done.
As we drained our glasses a very earnest fellow stood up on the other side of the room to comment on the speaker’s views. It was not appropriate to interrupt the stuffed shirts at that moment but he launched into what was an off the cuff but truly felt, original and innovative take on the proceedings and he continued undaunted. You could almost hear the toes curl under every table as the renowned speaker and government minister attempted several times to continue his plea to the business community to help recruit for the Territorial Army.
I turned to my hosts and commented, “your friend there, is he Aspergers?” They just smiled politely and went on to recount some hilarious anecdotes involving subduing a wayward peacock by rolling it in a carpet if I recall correctly and oh yes, action seen out and about with their instruments of death, destruction and awe-inspiring domination. I outlined some scripts we could possibly build around their experiences and they were puppies on my lap.
After dinner, I met the general and his cohort of officers that could change my life. They were complete gentlemen and the evening went spiffingly well. Brandies flowed liberally. I could not drink like that now it would kill me, but in those days it was par for the course. We laughed and toasted the future and my banter was on superb form if I say so myself.
Then the Asperger turned up. He wanted to speak to me before he left. He had to pick up his granddaughter in the morning so didn’t want to make a late-night of it. Did I want a lift home? “A lady should not be alone with these chaps after 11 pm.”
Home was the last place I wanted to go if I’m honest, I was putting it off to the last minute just trying to enjoy a few moments where I could lose myself in some temporary appreciation as a strong, talented woman forging a new future of her own making. But he wasn’t to know that. With a stifled groan, I thanked him for the offer but reassured him I was a big girl and could handle myself. If I was going to exit hell and keep my family safe with some kind of financial future I had to stick to my guns.
He pulled me to one side, looked intently into my eyes and asked me, “Who’s the monster?”
Again it was inappropriate, invasive even but heartfelt. I welled up of course and told him the story. He proffered a vintage Japanese kerchief from his breast pocket to dry my tears, took my hand, gently kissed the back of it and proposed. He would get the Pope himself to declare my marriage a non-marriage if he had to.
I’d like to say we waltzed off into the sunset there and then but I’m a stubborn old cow. The man was clearly unhinged and besides I had fantasised that once free I would play the field, travel and take my time with relationships, enjoy dating without commitment and live a full life rediscovering the real me. So I stayed out, fought off an eager little squaddy, turned down drinks in the colonel’s hotel room, shared a taxi with an officer who insisted he needed to show me something in what turned out to be his city shag pad (well I hadn’t dated for 30 years and didn’t know the language) and leaving him high and dry ended up walking home, giggling down the phone to the colonel about his disgusting little friend and he kindly played me Shostakovich tunes till he was reassured I was home safe in my own bed.
The fantasy was short-lived. The next day the Asperger called, alerted to the dwarfish shenanigans by the colonel who remains a much-valued friend of ours, and insisted he take me out for a coffee. We met up at the Norwegian Church in Cardiff Bay, built for sailors stranded on foreign shores, and walked along the seafront letting the salty air soak up the last of the brandy fumes. As they blew away on the words of my fierce determination after everything I’d been through, he listened patiently then asked me some straight forward and again invasive questions undaunted as ever. I took his arm to steady myself from the curveball of blatant honesty that had just smashed through all my windows.
Not so much an Asperger but a man in the Autumn of his life with little time to waste on “nonsense” he managed to swerve me entirely off the path I’d set out for myself. I learnt to value my values, not hide them for perceived survival. I learned what it was to value myself and be valued for being me. I learned that surviving is not living. I learned what real appreciation was and how it should feel.
And here we are luxuriating in bed for as long as we like on his 73rd birthday, almost six years to the day.
We’ve been through absolute hell but we have created a heaven on earth. We have carved out and built a life based on truth and appreciation of the miracle of life and nature in all its splendour. We have cut our cloth accordingly and we make it work. I don’t apologise or justify anymore. We just love and do what needs to be done to enjoy an environment that supports love.
So I won’t be out earning millions this week teaching killing machines to present themselves more convincingly. We’ll be working yes, but before we do we will be out every day roller skiing in the open air, striving for excellence in life and living, enjoying a healthy body and mind and inspiring it in others, spending time with family and celebrating every valuable moment on this beautiful planet as if it cost a million pound per hour.
Happy Birthday Darling xxxxxxx
