By JACQUI PORTER
I’ll be honest with you, I always hoped that somewhere in my future I’d find someone to share my life with. I’d always hoped that I would have children. But for the most part, I just didn’t think it was on the cards for me. I guess I accepted that I would be a single woman focused on career, spending time with friends and family but never really having that special someone. And I was ok with that.
This is how I pictured my life. Once I finished school, I’d go to university. I would probably live on campus, or in a share house and I’d spend my time partying and studying. Then, once I’d graduated and got a “real job” I’d find an apartment of my own and live my life.
I guess in many ways, I saw myself as an early series Nina Proudman. Independent and free, with flings here and there but basically accepting that my oddities and quirks would never match up with another human so much so that they would actually want to spend great deals of time with me, live with me or even (gasp) marry me.
Like everyone, I was all too familiar with my downfalls, and just figured there was no way anyone would want a part in it.
And so, the plan was put into action. I started university and got a job at an overpriced, trendy bar in the dodgy end of town. I was amongst the action, living it up.
But something happened. The bartender at the bar happened to be exceptionally good looking. That was fine, something nice to look at while I was serving drinks.
Just as an FYI, this post is sponsored by Tourism Fiji. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
Then I realised that the bartender actually happened to be a nice guy.
We got talking and discovered that we actually attended the same school and knew some of the same people. The only problem was that he was due to move overseas for a year as part of his studies. On his last night at the bar, we both finished early and decided to go for a drink. Insert fireworks, flirting and butterflies.