This is my story

Once upon a time (in 2002) I came England to get a Masters Degree. During the course of the year I fell in love with a Yorkshire man, who was a student of Philosophy. After one year, I had to move back to America as my course had ended and student visa expired. Yorkshire man (hereafter referred to a P) and I decided to stay together, with a view to him eventually moving to America.

Fast forward six months to me in Miami International airport getting ready to fly to London to marry P. I spent six months in south Florida and after failing to get a job offer in New York, a decision was made have have a go at married life in London. The decision went like this: P had been moaning to me that I should return to England. I wanted to move to New York, but also missed being on the same continent as P. I had a job interview in New York lined up, and possibly in attempt to get P to stop whinging and therefore making me feel guilty, I blurted out, "If I get offered the job, I move to New York. If I don't get the job, I'll move to London and we will get married." That set the whole deal in motion. I did not get the job (I was gutted) but kept my promise and the arrangements were made. When I told my mother that I was going to London to get married she burst into tears (and not the happy kind). My brother told me I was crazy. I didn't care. I wanted to make my own mistakes, even if they turned out to be catastrophic.

So off I went. We spent a few weeks in P's student halls until we found a studio flat. A month after I arrived we were married at Camden Town Hall. Two years after we were married, we split up. One year and three months later, here I am: A 25 year old, soon-to-be-divorced, single girl living in London.

This is the story of my past, present and future.