The multiverse of Spimf
At precisely 11.51 on Dec 24 2009 Mrs Spimf and I will have been together for 21 years. As a fan of 'Back to the Future' see here this anal level of precision works well for me, that and the fact I am a hopeless romantic and do very much believe in the power of love.

It will also be our fourth wedding anniversary and exactly 5 years since I proposed. The proposal story is also quite QOTW friendly, “my proposal involved a concealed kitten a Christmas tree and some industrial fireworks - how did you, or would you propose to your beloved?”

Anyway…

Christmas Eve, 1988 there’s the fresh faced Spimf, 19-year-old and not really in the mood to go out that night. I was at my gran's house with my mum and sister. It was a particularly cold wet and miserable night even by Glasgow standards. My wee Welsh gran had the gas fire on a little bit too high. The combination of the moist thick heat and soft hissing noise from a gas fire has always made me feel safe, secure and a bit sleepy (having said that maybe the fire simply hadn’t been serviced for a while), I was quite settled for a quiet night in. After all Santa was coming and there would be presents in the morning! But I was an adult now and my mate Mark was not ready to let me forget this. After calling to assure me our usual haunt would be “hoachin with fanny” (we were such regulars our little laminated VIP passes were numbers 3 & 4 – oh yes! very much the young blades) I was confidently assured that if I didn’t go out that night, I was a 'definite bender' reluctantly I agreed to get ready for a night out. High waisted stonewash jeans, ridiculous huge gelled 80’s hair, a liberal dousing of Kouros and there it was – chick Kryptonite. Did I mention the rather expensive handmade cowboy boots? Well aside from now being deeply embarrassing they are also highly significant, and in hindsight probably made me look like a 'definite bender'.

Eventually the cabbie announced his arrival with a few impatient pumps on the horn. I kissed my mum, sister and wee welsh Gran goodnight, promised to be back in time for Christmas dinner, then set off into the drizzle worrying about my extravagantly gelled hair. Walking down the pathway to the taxi I still felt distinctly unenthused about going out. Then the heel of my stupid bloody handmade cowboy boot hit a wet leaf – immediately everything expanded to Matrix bullet time. Doing my flailing slo-mo goosestep I remember thinking very clearly “right, if I go arse-over-tit and get all wet and manky – fuck it! I’m staying in.” Somehow I regained my footing and what little composure I had in that get-up. Space-time was restored and some way off in the distant future, in a picture next to my bed my son faded back into view.

So there we are in the club, Joe Paparazzo’s in Glasgow, not our usual haunt; Tin Pan Alley in Mitchell Lane – no! A deviation was made from the norm that night, the gears of fate had shifted, an alternate time line had been struck (big queue outside Tin Pan Alley, fuck that).

So new horizons, fresh prey: there I was scanning ‘Joe Paps’; a converted porn cinema apparently, popular with the dirty mac brigade before VHS allowed us to perv in the comfort of our own homes and killed the sleazy cinema trade dead in its sticky slacks. Then it happened, amidst the ironic Santa hats and hair gel I chanced upon the most lustrous mane of long dark tumbling hair.

There she was. Slender, pretty and petite wearing a lacy black dress (80’s remember) some high spiky black heels accentuating a finely turned ankle, and cracking legs. Then she spun round, tossing her beautiful hair over her shoulder (things might have gone a bit slo-mo again here) and looked directly at me, as if somehow she knew I was there. I found out later her dumpy mate was on point saying, “right, he's looking now”. Men are indeed innocent lambs before the connivances of a woman and her fat mate.

Her eyes were dark, dangerous and utterly beguiling. After all too brief a glance she looked away disinterestedly but arched her back and extended one leg backwards slightly (apparently this made her bum look even more perfect - like I say, innocent lambs). I was crestfallen. Clearly she was out of my league. She looked a little older than me and far more sophisticated (not difficult). But that didn't stop me staring. Pathetically, I was utterly unable to approach. At that point my best chat up approach was a slightly deranged looking stare. This went on for a while, a long while, then a friend of a friend who was with our group moved in for the kill. Ramie; an unsavory character, dodgy, bit of a car thief, conman and womaniser, but handsome and smooth with it. Bastard. It all began to slip away from me, the picture of my future son self-erasing by my bedside.

Action was required. Immediate action. I strode over, all the while looking into her huge brown eyes. Spinning on my (Cuban) heel I turned to the smirking Ramie, “your round mate”. He looked me up and down, sneered a bit, then turned to Mrs Spimf “he reckons it's my round, what do you think?” Mrs Spimf looked at him sweetly, held out her glass and said innocently “fresh orange and lemonade please”.

We talked. She was perfect. I glanced at my watch to see when it would be Christmas – 9 minutes to go. At midnight we shared an awkward peck on the cheek, I’d muffed it again. Shortly afterward Mrs. Spimf looked deep into my eyes and asked...

“So did you have a nice Christmas”?

I kid her now that she was pouting and swooning at this point, to be honest she was more likely thinking “Christ! will this Muppet ever make a move?”

We kissed, I had a cheeky grope at her bum. All the future pictures were drawn.

On Christmas eve at precisely 11.51 we enter our 22nd year together, Mrs Spimf remains perfect, as does my son, smiling away happily in a picture beside my bed.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 14:22, 21 replies)

aww
"On Christmas eve at precisely 11.51 we enter our 22nd year together, Mrs Spimf remains perfect, as does my son, smiling away happily in a picture beside my bed."

I like this, and thus am clicking "I like this"
( Mockingbird Practitioner of SCIENCE, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 14:51, closed)

Last line almost made me do an office cry
*clicky*
(kebabking - salad and garlic mayo pls, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:07, closed)

forget the cheesy ending...
This made the whole story worth it: "Men are indeed innocent lambs before the connivances of a woman and her fat mate."
( kingoffools, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:10, closed)

Uh huh
I hear you there...
( snee held his breath since, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:41, closed)

but
you're not tempted to go back in time, nearly shag your own mum and negate your owen existence only to pull everything back together at the last minute to find everything is the same but better as Ramie is now washing your car and a bit of a pussy? not even a little bit?
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:24, closed)

Clickety-clickness for the image of the slip on the path
The rest of the story is excellent too, but the image of Neo in the Matrix doing that impossible backward lean to avoid the agents' bullets will now forever be associated in my mind with you nearly going arse over tit in smooth-soled cowboy boots.
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:25, closed)

Click
I wish I could click a thousand times just for this "On Christmas eve at precisely 11.51 we enter our 22nd year together, Mrs Spimf remains perfect, as does my son, smiling away happily in a picture beside my bed.
" You are a diamond Spimf.
(Obi wanker nobi Its not a bug, its an unexpected feature, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 15:42, closed)

AWWWWWWWW
one giant click from me!!
(Nahla, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 17:57, closed)

You are a legend
and I mean it *click*
(mpaz52, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 16:55, closed)

This
deserves to win.

End.
(HarryTheMole whatever's on my finger is going in your mouth, Sun 13 Dec 2009, 1:20, closed)

Agreed
A perfect blend of humour and classic b3ta 'soundbites', with one of the single loveliest closing lines I've ever read.
(Pope Jamiroquai III, Sun 13 Dec 2009, 2:52, closed)

How's it going in Dubai?

(synapz, Sun 13 Dec 2009, 10:42, closed)

think you might have missed a meeting
ominousdubai.blogspot.com/2009/06/burned-in-dubai.html
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 13 Dec 2009, 14:11, closed)

oof!
What a difference a year makes, eh?
(synapz, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 4:55, closed)

Clicks from me too
But I am slightly worried by this line

At that point my best chat up approach was a slightly deranged looking stare.

Going on 22 years with the lovely Mrs Spimf, why and how did you improve your chat up method?
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 3:03, closed)

staggeringly good cunnilingus

( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 23:16, closed)

Wha?
You walk up to girls and just say that?

Or do you throw them on the ground and take their clothes off and just get in there? What does MrsSpimf think of this behaviour?

Wait, are you chatting me up right now?
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 2:15, closed)

I clicked
Because this deserves to win more than the horses....
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 11:12, closed)

To quote Requiem
Weeee got a winner!
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 16:16, closed)

Awwww
Clicks
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 19:12, closed)