It is early Sunday evening and I am inflicting great pain on my ears. BBC1s very own war on musical taste (The Voice) is punishing me for every bad thought I’ve ever had.
The singing, tonight, is dreadful. Yes, I could do better. Seriously.
I used to sing.
Chorister. A bunch of choirs. And a choral society.
And in a band. Not a famous band, not one anyone would have heard of. Not even a band that got signed. But we gigged. And we got paid for it. But right now my ears are on the point of spontaneously bleeding, the singing on tonight’s The Voice is that bad.
I’m single. He said, changing the subject.
My wife and I split up over 18 months ago. I caught her cheating. Again. So our marriage ended. Suddenly. After five and a half very happy years.
That was then.
Eight months ago I began talking to someone on Twitter. I really liked her. There was an instant connection. In both directions.
We added emails to our line of communications. And then texts. And then telephone calls. The connection between us strengthened.
Even though we had never met, we admitted we were strongly attracted to each other. But there was a problem. She was not single. Yet she found herself as attracted to me as I was to her, and I was smitten beyond all description.
After months of Twitter and emails and texts and phone calls, we arranged to see each other. Just for an hour. To meet up. For a drink. And a chat. And to say hello.
For half an hour we sat in the pub, and talked. Then we went out in to my car and kissed. Passionately. Deeply. Longingly. Lustfully. And I started falling for her. And she began falling for me.
We met, much more frequently. We talked on the phone, much more frequently. We emailed and texted all the time.
Two months later she left her husband.
I lived with her, on some/most days (and nights). On those days and nights we were together we lived as if we were a married couple. We shopped together, we went out for meals and drinks together, we stayed in and watched TV together, we cooked and ate together, and we fucked like fucking had only just been invented.
And during the five months that we lived together, we declared love – undying, never-ending love – for each other. We made plans. Long term plans. For us.
Five days ago I started getting little vibrations that things weren’t well between us. I asked her. She said things between us were fine. But she was missing her children.
Two nights after that conversation she told me she had been talking things over, with her husband. And they had decided to give things another try.
So that’s how I became single. This time.