People say you just know when you meet the man you are going to marry. Not true … it’s an act of blind faith
My husband was delivered to my door like a pizza. I’d love to say it was love at first sight, but it would be more accurate to say lust at first Google. Here’s how it happened.
My producer kindly let me stay in his flat while he was away. I received an email to say that Dan, an American he knew from LA, was travelling to London on business and needed a place to stay and would it be OK if he stayed in the spare room? “Boo-hoo, can’t he get a hotel?” I huffed as I Googled him. “He’s probably some lonely old man and I’m going to have to have awkward conversations with him outside the bathroom. What if he’s creepy?”
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