Yesterday mon amour “officially” proposed; and I officially said, “oui.”
It started as a friendship. He was a funny-looking little man (an avatar) I met in the virtual French world. I wanted to practice speaking French. He barely spoke English.
Fast forward two years and several trips across the ocean for both of us. And now, I am embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.
Ok, it reads like a romance novel. It is: American woman meets French man. American woman goes to live in the South of France. He’s romantic; the place is romantic. But it’s not a novel. It’s reality. (I could have my own TV show)
In one month I leave for France, having sold my house and quit my job.
I started this blog at the encouragement of some friends. They want to read about my adventure. Yes, it is romantic; but I think my story speaks to them for several reasons.
They witnessed my divorce. They watched my life fall apart. They saw this once strong and determined woman wither to someone who felt worthless and afraid to face life alone. They cried with me. They encouraged me. I include my mother in that circle of friends. She’s my faithful friend, and she supported me most of all.
And then they watched this man love me unconditionally. Through a year of turmoil as I fell to pieces and made poor decisions, he loved me from afar; but technology brought him close. And once, he flew over just for a weekend because he knew I needed that closeness of the physical touch, if only for a few days.
So you see, this is not just a story of romance and the French Riviera. It is a story of love and healing. And this wonderful man, who happens to be French, showed me that real love does still exist. And by real, I mean the kind that lasts through the darkest valley.
And now, my real adventure begins.