The multiverse of Spimf
Mrs Spimf and I will have been together for 20 years at precisely 11.51 on Dec 24 2008. I am a huge fan of 'Back to the Future' so this anal level of precision works 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 third wedding anniversary and exactly 4 years since I proposed. The proposal story is far more b3ta friendly, I shall make a point of ahem… proposing that as a future QOTW – “my proposal to the future Mrs. Spimf involved concealed kittens and industrial fireworks - how did you, or would propose to your beloved?”

Anyway…

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Sorry I find wavy lines a bit dull, anyway... Christmas Eve, 1988 there’s the fresh faced 19-year-old Spimf not really in the mood to go out. I was at my gran's with my mum and sister. It was a cold wet miserable night in Glasgow. My wee Welsh gran always 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, so I was up for a quiet night in. After all Santa was coming that night and there would be presents there in the morning (I have always loved Christmas). But still I was an adult now and my best 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 No.s 3 & 4 on our little laminated VIP passes – oh yes we were very much the young blades). I was also assured that if I didn’t go out that night I was a ”definite bender” so reluctantly I agreed to get ready. Some high waisted, stonewash jeans, ridiculous gelled 80’s hair and a liberal dousing of Kouros and there I was – chick kryptonite. Did I mention the rather expensive handmade cowboy boots? Aside from now being deeply embarrassing they are also highly significant.

Finally the taxi announced it’s 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, and 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 that night. Then suddenly, the heel of my stupid handmade cowboy boot struck a wet leaf on the pavement. Everything immediately expanded to Matrix bullet time. As I was doing my slo-mo flailing goosestep I remember very clearly thinking “right if I go arse over tit and get all wet and manky – fuck it, I’m staying in” Amazingly I regained my footing and my composure. Space-time relativity was restored and quite possibly somewhere in the future my son faded back into view in the picture next to my bed.

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 fateful night, (big queue outside Tin Pan Alley, fuck that).

So new horizons, fresh prey: there I was scanning ‘Joe Paps’ (a converted porn cinema apparently) suddenly I chanced upon the most lustrous mane of long tumbling dark hair.

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

Her eyes were dark, dangerous and utterly beguiling. After an all too brief 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. Cleary she was WAY out of my league. She looked a little older than me, clearly more sophisticated. But that did not stop me staring. Pathetically though, I was utterly unable to approach. But I could at least gawp. 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. Ramie was dodgy: a car thief, conman and womaniser, but handsome and smooth with it. Bastard. I watched things slip away from me, the picture of my son fading by my future bedside.

Action was required. Immediate action. I strode directly over, all the while looking into those big brown eyes. I spun on my (Cuban) heel and turned to Ramie. “It’s your round” Ramie looked me up and down sneered, then turned to Mrs Spimf and said mockingly “he reckons its my round, what do you think?”

Mrs Spimf looked at him innocently, held out her glass and said sweetly “Fresh orange and lemonade please” (she was driving that night).

We talked. She was perfect. I looked at my watch to see when it would be Christmas – 9 minutes to go. At midnight we shared an awkward peck on the cheek. Shortly afterwards Mrs. Spimf looked deeply into my eyes and said...

“So did you have a nice Christmas”?

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

We kissed. All the future pictures were drawn.

Mrs Spimf doesn’t do B3ta so I can share this with you all. I’m already planning Christmas this year back home in Scotland. There will be a very large eternity ring involved.

She is still perfect.

!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 21:51, 13 replies)

That was really nice
I'm glad things worked out well :)

And if she doesn't do B3ta, you should invite her here to read your well-written story.
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 10:00, closed)

Indeed he should
It's very mushy and very sweet. I'm sure she'd love it.
( Captain V, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 12:00, closed)

Ach
you're just a big jessie on the quiet, aye?

Lovely story though.

*click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sun 31 Aug 2008, 12:02, closed)

yes, i think you'll find...
...all the great romantic sagas include such eloquent and heart moving terms as:

“hoachin with fanny”

and

"arse over tit"

;D
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 13:35, closed)

Just shows that there are some women out there that have a strong stomach....
and a positlivly saintlike forebearance.

*shakes Mrs Spimf's hand*
( girlinthehole, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 13:38, closed)

Aww, bless your heart
That brought a lump to my eye.

Beautifully told and bloody well written. I reckon you should print this out and give it to Mrs Spimf this Christmas with her eternity ring.

*clicky*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 13:38, closed)

I did like
the 'hoachin with fanny' line!

Also - 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

Carbon monoxide possibly? :)

*clicks*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 14:10, closed)

^^^ secure
not sick

;-)
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 14:14, closed)

thank you.
i now have diabetes.

*eats salt to counteract sweetness*
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 16:27, closed)

This story
= perfect. *click*
( MadAdamUk was last alive on, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 14:33, closed)

Ah
A b3tan after me own heart:

Long live long-lived monogomy!!!
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 16:45, closed)

*goes all melty*
*clicks*
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 17:28, closed)

I think
I'm missing out on something somewhere.

(Good story btw)
(Kip, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 10:07, closed)