He walked into the room at my singles dinner party and everything stopped. After years of stop-start relationships and a broken engagement, he led me to a happier world
When I got engaged in 2002, I was 33. Somehow, after growing up on a self-sufficient farm in the 1970s, I had bolted to London at 17 and ended up in the fast lane as a freelance journalist, writing about sex, parties and cars. My 20s were full of stop-start love affairs and crazy jobs. I was unsure of who I was, scared, fun-seeking, defensively cynical and desperate to write, and I suspect I wasn’t entirely lovable or reliable. But after meeting my fiance I thought I was on the home straight to a wedding and kids.
About a year into our engagement, I pitched an idea to a women’s magazine. What if I hosted a dinner party for 12 single people to “see what happens”? The magazine agreed, saying they’d confirm the details later in the summer.
