I'm Sarah, thirty-seven and an HR Business Partner. I live in a smallish town and own my own house. I love to take photos: mostly scenery either locally or abroad and I have shot a few weddings as favours to friends and have won a few prizes for some of my landscapes when I’ve entered competitions. I love to be in the outdoors, hiking, running or just soaking nature in. My hair is shoulder length and naturally brown-black, my face is minimally made-up unless I really need to and even then, I’m not into looking like a warrioress. my skin doesn't look like it’s been attacked by a carrot.
My love life has been stone cold. I somehow end up with guys who are expecting stay at home wife who will quickly knock out the kids for them. While I'd like kids with the right guy if it happened, I want to cook for and be cooked for, to love and to be loved as an equal.
One night after our weekly pub run, I was having dinner with friends and we ended up making rather rude comments about The Love Show: that most of the women were busty, vacuous tarts and a lot of the guys had bigger tits than I do, although mine are not measurable solely with a magnifying glass.
They dared me to sign up and see if I'd find Mr Small Tits. As we were chatting, I googled TLS application and quickly filled in the form on my phone, with assistance from my friends as another round was consumed.
Weeks later, I got a call from the producers, accepting me for an in-person interview.
Create the position description, then make a candidate list, I decided. My candidate should be at least as tall as me, preferably childless but open to the idea. A smoker was a hard kill: I've had family that were stupid enough to smoke and I've seen what happened to them. I told them that I needed a guy that would stimulate my mind and body, in that order. This, I conveyed to the producers.
I’ve also found that guys with too much body muscle tends to mean that they can lack cranial muscle. Ideal config for me is that I can see his chest muscles, but my tits would be bigger than his!
I went in with the attitude that I’d give it my best shot and I knew that throwing two unknowns together wouldn’t be plain sailing. I’d enjoy the fast runs and ride out the inevitable storms, dealing with the effects as I went along.
From work, I know when an interview is going well and also, when is definitely sunk and I've dealt with employee situations where things are unrecoverable. When they're sunk like the Moskva, I call it over and get the exit papers sorted. I was determined to do my best, but if things developed into an unrecoverable shit-show, I'd call it over. End. Then, like Cincinnatus, I’d return to my [not] farm and my life as before.
When I was accepted, I had to choose a wedding dress. My default style is casual, but clean: flowers for me, are in the garden and not on dresses. I love a good, fitted dress or blouse and have used The Hong Kong Tailors for ages as they do good value made to measure, but I'm not really into showing skin. Mum and I found a fitted, high cut white dress on the HKT site that had a 6" train. I arranged a fitting and had them tweak it to optimise my fit.
I'm not a huge makeup or jewellery girl and I decided that I was going to be what I normally am in appearance when at a Formal.
I've done a dozen formal public speeches and I know how to prep and present. I wrote my vows' bullet points on the cards: honesty, respect, and standing by but sometimes up for were the main themes.
The day of the wedding, I was nervous as. I had my watch on, and my HR was over 90 solidly, sometimes hitting 110 which for me is pre-race! Normally it rests in the 60s. In the car, I focussed on the scenery, thinking how I'd shoot it and wishing I'd brought my phone to take pics.
Walking up the aisle, at the altar, I saw a tall, slender form entirely in black. No daft things like no socks or red shoes. Good Start, I thought.
The form, my future guy, turned as I neared him, showing his cropped hair and spectacled eyes. I noticed a gentle smile on his face, and he seemed at peace, unlike me. He had a white shirt and black bow tie, and I noticed his suit seemed to be fitted: not tight but tailored. Even better. Wonder if he uses HKT like I do, I mused.
Had his appearance swept me off my feet? I thought. No, I was still standing, but his appearance could glide me gently down a path, I mused. I briefly thought about wedding pics and how I'd love to shoot us if I was on the viewfinder. This distraction slightly relaxed me.
When he gently took my hand, I was relieved. Formal but friendly. He spoke in a tone barely low enough for the people in the front row to hear, He's speaking to me and me only I realised and maybe he was trying to relax me?
When he replied that, "Nerves are serving me, not me them," I had to ponder that statement: either he was BS’g, or he really was not nervy. #2 I thought, unlike me!
His offer to help me relax stunned me as it was certainly not what I expected at the altar. But his gentle, soft way of asking and showing engendered trust quickly: he was not trying to hit on me as I had initially wondered, but it was a sincere offer. Sincerely given, sincerely and gratefully received and used.
I'd previously tried some breath control techniques, but had got distracted during them and stopped trying, Andy leading me actually worked as I felt my heart slow, and my body relax. The fruit comment was simply the end cap of the process.
I realised that we had united together in that most fundamental, life-giving action: breathing.
He started the vows, by bringing out his cards, Good to see, I thought. His bow and formal presentation of the blanks stunned me, Was I being had? I thought.
I quickly realised his vows were neither scripted, nor a full wing: they were honest and from the heart. But I knew that I was screwed as he'd blown away the vows I'd prepared. I got his comment about burning food (distracted by me!) and I gave him a glare in acknowledgement.
I also realised that, inadvertently, he had challenged me intellectually. His intelligence showed in the vows, but they challenged me to give a suitable response. It’s sexy in a non-sex way, I realised, and I did the Up and Down, so recently taught, to steady myself.
I've had speeches that go sideways due to something that that audience has raised, and my method is to respond to the audience. In this case, I quickly decided that my vows would respond to his. But first a slight kick to let him know he'd sunk the vows I'd planned to use!
I felt a pleasant rush as, from my heart, I poured out my response. I could see his appreciation and felt his soft touch on my hand soothing me. I may have found a true equal, I realised.
His run-in for a kiss, but last-minute breakaway was sweet: polite and gentle, but a tease rather than a hit.
When the officiant said, post-rings that we may kiss, Andy looked at me with a cocked head, questioning this. I understood perfectly, He would like to kiss me, but wonders if now is quite the right time. If it is, how much of a kiss do I want as we've only just met.
I pursed my lips in thought and quickly resolved: Not a full-on kiss, but just a brief taster, so I ding-tapped my finger on his hand and pursed my lips tighter. Smart and caring guy I've got, I thought as he peck-kissed me which I briefly held, then we turned around to the room and walked down the aisle.
I didn't mind when he took his ring off and placed it in the box in his pocket as he had spoken the truth. Placing my hand over his over the pocketed ring was a touching and honest gesture.
His delayed compliment about my dress and its associated apology, was appreciated. The reasons for the delay: making me feel relaxed had bonded us, so I playfully rubbed my head on his shoulder to acknowledge.
It gave me an opening to test out my theory on his suit, so I playfully pinched the side of his jacket and upper trousers. It was a fitted suit, but was it his or a rental, I wanted to know, so I asked him and got a head rub in return.
We laughed at my recitation of mum's proverb about fitted vs tight. Another hand rub: micro touches of affirmation seemed to be our thing at the moment, I understood.
Walking to the meadow, we saw the photographer for the inevitable shots. While I enjoyed our brief altar kiss, I wasn't mad on a staged pash. I had the feeling that Andy may feel similar. When he said he did want to kiss me, but unsure when, it reinforced my feelings about him: that he was interested in me, but fundamentally, he respected me. As his vows said, he'd just reinforced partnership.
I like taking atmosphere photos at weddings and I thought that some light-hearted ones that we could wing would loosen us up, so offered it up.
His follow-on suggestion that we should do him holding me from behind was bang-on: we could Up and Down as I was referring to it; to relax and it would keep the crew sweet. Then our fun could begin.
I knew that despite really being strangers, we were on the same page, but maybe not quite the same page as the crew wanted.
The photographer called us in, and we stood in front of her as I scooched back into his chest, diligently getting a good resting spot, placed my hands on his. I looked up into his spectacled eyes, idly wondering what they looked like bare. He repeated the down-up-down breathing to relax me, causing my heart to slooowly relax and my breathing timed into his rhythm as we united bodies. We stood there reciprocating the relaxation breathing as the shots were taken.
"Now let's have some shots of you kissing," The photographer said. My fingertips play-raked his hands to acknowledge my leading.
We played along we faced each other, then I put my arms around Andy which he reciprocated. My head moved in close to his and he came close to me as if to pash me.
"Nice shots: now the kiss," we heard.
Fun time, I decided: see how Andy plays off me.
I growled clenched teeth at him, and I got a snarl in return, though inside, I was stifling a laugh.
"WHAT?" called out the shooter and someone from the crew.
"Humour us," I called out and resumed my growl. Click.
He playfully arched his back and looked down at the floor. I returned the arch and miserable floor stare and looked down saying, "Shoot." Click.
I got a gentle side tickle as a reward that sent a tingle up my spine, and I felt my nipples tighten slightly. He really has an impact on me, I felt.
We did a couple more lead and follows calling the shot to the increasingly irked shooter and crew. We were having fun at their expense, and they weren't happy as they wanted something happy and staged. They were only getting 1 of 2!
Softly he said, "Humour them, then we can eat?" and I felt my stomach rumble.
I smiled at him, "Co-author, I like the story so far."
We held hands and leaned in, pursing our lips as we gently touched lips. Click caused us to straighten as we smiled at the shooter for a final shot.
Walking back, Andy said, "There are two ways to get to know someone, deeply and slowly or shallow and fast."
For a second, I pondered this deep thought. Drip - well pour, a lot more respect for him.
Silently, I slid a single finger over his hand in response to acknowledge The Slow Way. I was curious though, about the breathing technique we were using, so I asked him smiling," The breathing technique works," and smiled more into his eyes, "Is that how it's properly done?"
His reply of "Not exactly .. but it was the appropriate way," reinforced my admiration and respect for him: we had just met and he wanted to help me but explicitly not send a signal that could be interpreted as hitting on. I was surprised how comfortable I felt around him, and I snuggled into him as we walked to the dinner while holding hands.
After arriving, someone called out "Speeches."
He looked into my eyes, and I felt my vision narrow until I could only see him, and he said how grateful he was for everything, especially me. Soppy, but very honest, I knew.
I decided to deadpan the response to get a laugh, flickering my eyes at him to lighten things up, which worked.
Dinner was then served. Mostly, we chatted just with each other, finding more commonality and some slight differences.
His enquiry about allergies touched me deeply. I already knew he cared and respected me, but this flooded me with admiration for him and I did the head-shoulder-touch.
Mum and Ellie, my sister, had been looking on at us, giving discrete approving signals. He let me chat to them first. They told me that they admired his vows but knew they had blown my planned ones out of the water, and they were impressed how I'd quickly winged a response.
I replied, "He is a very thoughtful guy," trying to count the number of thoughtfuls he's exhibited in a fraction of a day.
Later on, we were both tired as we headed for the car taking us to the hotel and we belted up and snuggled into each other, relaxing wordlessly.
We had the camera crew follow us into the room. Before us was the bed with roses, a bottle of champagne on the side, and some chocolates. We stood there in reflection.
It was late and I get sugar hits quite easily, so don't like eating chocolate too late after dinner.
When he asked, "Have them now or get changed into something comfy?" more drips of respect for me!
The dress, while fitting was starting to pinch, and I haven't spent that long in heels in years. Good offer: I can dump them, I thought, smiling and replied, "Comfy. Maybe sample the chocolate but I don't want the hit this late. Can I inspect your shirt?" as I did want to see if what was underneath was similar as the jacket.. but the real underneath could wait, I thought!
We walked in and closed the door, and I got a nod in reply to my question, so I undid his jacket's three buttons, then playfully pinched his shirt on the side, reached up, and playfully but chastely peck-kissed him in approval. "Fitted," and smiled.
He returned my peck kiss and, "Need help?"
Yes I did as it was tighter than a wetsuit on Day 1 after winter!
I peck-kissed a response and I felt his hands go behind, then take my zip, and undid it. He playfully slid a finger down my spine, causing a gentle shudder to shoot down. "I'll change in the bathroom. I need less space," he offered, and I rubbed my head on his shoulder again.
Lots of drips of respect for him. Call the plumber, flood of respect!
We seemed to have developed a Love Language already: gentle head-shoulder rub-touches, plus occasional brief kisses.
He dug out blue jeans and a blue polo shirt from his luggage, which I thought were casual but not scruffy, like the black jeans and black long-sleeved Icebreaker 200 zip top that I was going to get. Then he took them into the bathroom while I shed the dress and put on the casuals.
Leaving the bathroom, I smiled looking at his darkly clothed figure and he flicked his eyebrows at me as he saw the top gently tracing my torso. I got this and smiled.
"Eat them here or on the deck?" he offered.
Outside: one taste [of choc and Andy], I decided and picked up the chocs, nodding towards the door, but motioning free hand for mine take me in your hand. We were followed out by the crew again, which I knew was part of the deal, but implicitly we had decided to let them do their thing as we did ours.
On the deck, he found a wall with a ledge overlooking the garden where I put the chocs. It was a clear night, and the stars were out, and I slid my back onto his chest again. Soo comfy and relaxing, I knew, and rested my head on his collar.
He placed his hand gently on my stomach to steady me respectfully and I put my hands on his and reached around taking a chocolate. So romantic, let’s try a bit longer this time, I decided, and I placed it in my mouth, then turned my head turned and placed it on his lips and into them, so our lips touched. We bit down on it and kissed while eating, then our lips parted but heads did not. His free hand went over mine.
We stood there in silence, apart from discrete yakking from the crew, and felt our breathing slow as we soaked in the scene. I felt him gently slide down the wall, so we were sitting on the deck, and we entered a deeper relaxation.
