Have you ever been to Graceland?

Six years ago today I was sat in my childhood bedroom. The carpet was still an acrylic mixture of browns and buffs designed not to show the dirt (or the backs of earrings). The bedroom door still didn't close properly. If you wanted to sleep with the window open you had to wedge the door either side with jeans and a t-shirt to stop it banging in the wind. In the cupboard over the stairs 'I love John Taylor IDST' still showed through two coats of white paint.

Dad was downstairs, watching television. 'Are you being framed' (sic) probably, or 'Watchdog'.

I was sifting through the responses to my internet dating profile, thinking it would be nice to go on a date. A night out would be fun. I'd spent too many quiet nights in. Dad wasn't well enough for me to look for somewhere else to live, but neither was he that poorly that I had to stay in with him every night. I especially didn't need to be in when Phil and Ken came round and the three of them talked at each other for a few hours while they drank gin and tonics and ate Fruit and Nut.

I logged into the 'chat' section of the dating website for the first time. New chat windows were opening up faster than I could look at them. Paul said 'Hello', Dave said 'Hi', Chris said 'Hi', Rob said 'hi' (how hard is it to find the shift key?), then Andy asked 'Have you ever been to Graceland?'.

I didn't even look at his photograph or profile at that stage. We just started chatting about freaky waxworks in Country and Western museums. I closed all of the other windows down. Andy was intelligent, funny and on my wavelength. We exchanged email addresses.

Reader, I married him.



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Have you ever been to Graceland?

The Eight Hour First Date

Do you recognise this man?

Apparently it's Elvis. It's a Madame Tussauds waxwork. I find waxworks creepy. I don't know how the subject came up, but Andy and I discussed waxworks when we were internet flirting. He had been to the Country and Western Waxworks Museum and had sent me photographs. I had to guess who the waxworks were supposed to be. Their Elvis looked like Alan Partridge.

Andy and I had arranged our first date. We were going to Madame Tussauds. It seemed like a good idea at the time. As I stood on a packed train, trying to hold my breath for the entire journey to avoid breathing in the beer fumes of the men on their way to Highbury, I got a text.

Andy: "I'm leaning nonchalantly outside the Upper Crust". I smiled. The first of many that day. He was waiting at the station, he hadn't stood me up.

We had been chatting online and on the telephone for a little while before we arranged to meet. We knew we shared a sense of humour, but we didn't know that we would feel instantly comfortable in each other's company. After a short tube ride we were already friends.

There was an enormous queue for the freaky waxworks so we decided to grab a coffee instead. We then walked along random streets. We paused to browse in the memorabilia shop Elvisly Yours. If you believed in fate you would have taken this as a pretty huge sign that we were meant to be together. The first question Andy asked me online was 'Have you ever been to Graceland?'.

It was a beautiful Spring day. We walked around Regent's Park for most of the afternoon. We talked, non-stop. We told jokes, we discussed our families, we told each other some secrets, we discussed how ducks could hear as they appeared to have no ears. We had tea with lemon and lavender cake in the tearoom. We discussed my Eurovision Song Contest home scoring system. We photographed the crocuses. We smiled and we laughed.

As we walked around the lake Andy briefly and gently touched the small of my back. I went weak at the knees. I'd heard this expression before but had never experienced the sensation. Something was happening.

We sat in a hut and had our first kiss. It was soft and surprising. It made us grin. We walked away. My arm around Andy's waist and his around my shoulders. Did we look like lovers? We felt like we had a secret.

The temperature had cooled, we looked for a restaurant. We found a Pizza Express. We ordered the same pizza (another sign?), but different juices (maybe not). Still talking, talking, talking.

Eventually, reluctantly, we headed back to King's Cross. There was a train waiting for me. We kissed, like teenagers. I don't remember making any arrangements to call or meet again. By this point it went without saying. As my train pulled away from the station, eight hours after I arrived in London, I was beaming.



Photo credit

This post was written for the Sleep is for the Weak Writing Workshop. This week I chose prompt no.5 Recount the story of a meeting or a parting.

The Eight Hour First Date

Thank you Elvis, thank you Johnny!

Life is random.

In February 2006 I was internet dating. I'd been corresponding with a few men, dates had been offered, but nothing had been arranged. One afternoon I decided to go to the online chat section of the website. This was the first time I'd tried to chat 'live' as it were. I was battling somewhat with the technology (as usual). I started chatting with a guy called Paul. I was intrigued that he was a Punch and Judy man. I told him I'd see his show the next time he performed at Covent Garden. He said he was surprised I wanted to meet him. He said once women read his profile they usually went off him. 'Not me' I said, frantically looking for his profile - what had I missed?

Oh. I see. Punch and Judy man and Funeral Director.

Well I suppose it's a steady job.

We chatted some more about his love of roller coasters - not my cup of tea. The conversation was winding down.

A new window flashed up with a question from Andy 'Have you ever been to Graceland?'. This was quite a random question. It took me a while to work it out. Of course, I'd said I liked Elvis Presley in my profile. I answered 'No, have you?'.

* * *

In October 2006 Andy was playing the guitar and I was singing. We both love music. We embarked on a jolly cover of this:

This was the first time was had sung together, it sounded okay.

Andy put down the guitar, got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

* * *

This is what we first danced to at our wedding in January 2007:

* * *

Presley was born in September 2007.

Cash was born in August 2008.

Life is random.

Thank you Elvis, thank you Johnny.

Thank you Elvis, thank you Johnny!