For those of you who don’t know, I’d like to take a few minutes to give you the story of how Krystal and I met.
We’d both been to a gig at Brixton Academy, Krystal on her own as she had recently arrived in the motherland, and I went with some friends including Gemma who was on crutches due to having played chicken with a car.
After the gig, we went to the nearest bar, known as Plan B. For anyone who isn’t aware of Plan B, let’s just say, it’s very rarely anyone’s Plan A!
I saw a lonesome Krystal sipping on a beer with an empty seat next to her. Should I make my move? I looked at her and thought: stylish, sexy, sophisticated… clearly a little drunk… I’ve got all of those qualities, so she should definitely be interested.
I went over and we spent the next few minutes shouting at each other over the music. I thought I’d impress her by telling her how I’d taken out a poor friend who’d had a nasty accident and couldn’t walk… Only for a tipsy Gemma to bound over without her crutches, dancing away, making me look like a liar!
But I found a quick way to Krystal’s good books. I bought her a drink. However, it’s fair to say that, at least for Krystal, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight…
We seemed to be getting along, but then Krystal decided she wanted to leave… or get away from me… Not sure which.
But I followed her out and she didn’t run, so I figured I was safe. It was at this point that I discovered that when Krystal’s slightly tipsy, she has an irrational love of ‘dirty chicken’. So off we went to KFC for some processed poultry.
Once the order had been taken, Krystal turned to look at me under the bright neon lighting. She furrowed her brow. “You look really old!” she said. Thanks, I replied. “At least 45”. Thanks again.
I decided she must need more drink and a darker environment, so we went to another pub.
But something must have clicked, because she’s stuck with this old man. And for that I am grateful, as she looked beautiful on our wedding day and I feel very lucky!