I wasn’t expecting to meet my next husband.

I don’t even need a next husband. I have a perfectly good one right now. But these things happen. And as my dear old grandma used to say, you should never look a gift horse in the mouth. And this was one hell of a gift horse. And you just never know when you might need a new husband. There is nothing wrong with having a backup.

I met this particular gift horse (I should stop calling him that) as I was boarding a Cathy Pacific flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong, and then on to Sri Lanka. I am used to flying on British Airways and American Airways, and there is absolutely no prospect of meeting my next husband on either of those airlines. Their air stewards are all well over 6o with a girth to match. And they are, not to put too fine a point on it, on the grumpy side of charming. The stewards on Cathy Pacific, as I was about to find out, are a completely different kettle of fish (to mix my metaphors).

Well …….. standing in the doorway of the plane was a tallish young man, athletic and handsome, in a uniform, tailored beautifully to show off his slim waist and broad shoulders. His eyes, the color of the mediterranean, sparkled as they looked at me. I could dive right in. He was, I thought, great eye candy. And that is all he was.  But then he smiled and two of the most adorable dimples appeared in his cheeks. Dear reader, dimples are my downfall, (well one of them!). They make me go quite weak at the knees. I couldn’t move. I just stood in the doorway of the plane and stared. It took me a moment to realise that my next husband was speaking to me.

“Good morning Mr Herman”, he said.

How could he possibly know my name. But he did. I didn’t ask his name. I didn’t need to know it. I was happy just staring at him. He was my gift horse. He had to be my next husband. I couldn’t live without those dimples.

Gordon doesn’t have dimples. It is his only flaw.  A lot of wrinkles he does have, but they don’t count. But he is almost perfect in every other way. But those dimples are a deal breaker.. And they quite literally stopped me in my tracks. My feet wouldn’t move. And nothing would come out of my mouth. And, dear reader, that doesn’t happen very often. A clear sign that I was smitten. 

I just stood and stared at him. I tried to launch my thousand-megawatt smile. That always seems to work. But I could only manage a few megawatts before a rivulet of sweat dripped into my mouth.  Not a good look. But I have just rushed through the airport pulling a large suitcase and carrying a tote bag on one shoulder and a computer bag over the other. A rivulet of sweat might be allowed.

My future husband smiled again and suggested that I move on to my seat, as there was a long line of people waiting to board the plane. He said it so nicely, but it didn’t help. I was behaving like a teenager.

A few minutes later he came down the aisle. I pretended not to see him coming but it was obvious that his whole being was focused on me. He stopped and smiled. Those damn dimples did it again!  And then, he very elegantly lowered himself to a squatting position. Our faces were inches apart. His blue eyes still sparkling, while another rivulet of perspiration ran down my cheek.

“Is there anything I can do for you?’ he asks

Now there’s a question I don’t hear ever day from a handsome young man squatting down in front of me. The possibilities are endless.

There were so many answers.  Some were bright and witty, designed to make him laugh, others were a little naughty designed to…..what ,? Make him blush? Reveal his true feelings for me? Or just throw up! 

Before I could decide what I should say, he asked what I would like to drink. He may know my name, but he doesn’t know my drink. He has a lot to learn.

“Champagne” I say. “The very best Champagne”.

“Just as I thought “he replied. “I knew you would want bubbles”

It’s decided. We are made for each other.

And then, without any effort or help, he rose from his squatting position to his full height. Smiling all the way. 

He really is quite perfect.

Finally he shows me a button to press, should I need him at any point. Oh dear. I can resist anything except temptation and a button to push when I am tempted.

Even Gordon doesn’t have one of those, and if he did, I don’t think he would answer it.

I have only 14 hours to propose. It is so tempting. 

And yet, as I sip my champagne I realize that I have everything I ever wanted sitting right next to me! So what if he doesn’t have dimples. So what if he doesn’t have a call button. So what if he is 75. He still gets the fabulosity Meter ringing. Plus he has managed to put up with me for 54 years and hopefully will continue doing so for many more years to come.

I am not giving up all that for dimples and a uniform .

Well not right now

For the next 14 hours I refrain from pressing the call button

Instead, I just look to the future.  Our journey to Sri Lanka has just begun.

Post Script. I know you want to see my next husband, but in the age of social media gone wild, I thought a little discretion was called for. Not something I am known for, but in this case there will be no photos!