I married a bloke who was down on his luck, and my whole family had a field day at my expense.
Seven years ago I said I do to a chap who owned nothing but a few pairs of wellworn shoes. My relatives didnt get it; they snickered openly, as if Id bought a ticket to a comedy show. I understand that most women have a mental picture of their ideal husband, often checking the bank balance before the first date. Some even hunt for a prince who looks like he stepped out of a glossy magazine. I, however, had my own checklist. First and foremost, he had to stay away from the bottle Im certain that a permanent habit of tippling ends badly, and I didnt want my kids growing up with a perpetually inebriated dad.
I also wanted him hardworking, not a couchpotato, and honest to a fault. Material things never swayed me; whether he owned a car or a flat mattered not. I didnt come from a line of millionaires, so reaching for something I didnt have made no sense. My mother, Margaret, raised me and my brother Tom on her own, so luxury was never on the menu. James and I lived together for a year before we tied the knot. He was the youngest of six siblings, a respectable fellow who lectured in his field at the university.
He still lived in his parents house in a modest town in Yorkshire, sharing a kitchen with his brother and mum. Our wedding was a tiny affair just close family and a handful of mates. As is usual, we moved in together right after. It turned out we were as different as chalk and cheese, and it took about six months of bickering, laughter, and compromise before we settled into a rhythm.
The first time I saw James shed a manly tear was when we welcomed our first baby. Our children now fill the house, and James earns a solid salary around £45,000 a year even though he switched to a different sector. We started out renting a flat in Manchester, but weve since bought a semidetached house in a leafy suburb, and life is looking decent.
Sure, we have our spats; we talk them through and learn to solve problems without shouting across the garden. Were not rolling in cash, but health and happiness trump any bank balance. Today marks the anniversary of the day, seven and a half years ago, that we pledged ourselves to each other. Over the years my love for James has grown daily, and I cant imagine letting go. Im over the moon when he plays with the kids, looks after me, or rings just to ask if Im hungry. Its all rather lovely.
Take, for example, my friend Poppy. She married a wealthy fellow, and at first everything was rosy, until he started cheating, sulking, and even pinching cash from her parents. Shes now considering divorce but doesnt want the kids left with him. Her story is a stark reminder that wealth isnt everything. Im glad I made the right choice, and I wish every woman finds a partner who loves her and makes her feel loved. Dont measure love by the size of your wallet!
