The Bigamist - Chapter 1

November 2000

In November 2000, I was a 35-year-old single mum. It had taken me over a year to get used to this title and all that it meant. I had had to re-form my own perception of the title’s significance, as I had never thought that I would find myself in this position and had remained in a miserable relationship for a year longer than I probably should have, simply because I did not want to have this label attached to me.

When my daughter Moran was nine months old, I finally realised that by remaining where I was, feeling miserable and merely putting up with the situation, I was teaching her to behave the same way in the future. As her mother, I taught her the norms – and I was saying that it was oK to remain static even if unhappy. My attitude changed – no longer was I prepared to sacrifice myself to keep the family together; I was now determined to live as an example to my wonderful daughter. She deserved so much more than what I had found for myself and I desperately wanted to ensure that she would grow up to have more respect for herself. I realised that if I did not show her the way, she would be unlikely to find it. If I wanted a better life for her, I had to find a better life for myself.

So I made the decision to end the relationship and time moved on. I had a good job and was surviving financially despite my change in circumstances. I had tried the online dating thing and met three men. The first chap was lovely and became a good friend but I wasn’t physically attracted to him; the second was a man who hated his ex with so much vehemence that he came across like an obsessive axe murderer and I escaped our one date glad to still be alive; and the third guy I dated for several months before it became clear he was a social parasite just looking for a new life and an easy introduction into a new world. So I gave up on the online dating and became happy and settled with being single. Actually, in some ways I had never been happier and I stayed that way for several months.

It was while in this frame of mind that fate intervened. Unbeknown to me, even if you cancel your membership to an online dating service they leave your advert online to pad out the membership, so, although I was no longer a member, this message was still there:

Out of the blue on 16 November 2000, I received a long, chatty email from a chap called Will Allen.

The tone of message was very relaxed and friendly. He complimented me on my ad and commented that it was very different to the others that he had read online. He told me apologetically that he was an American but lived in the UK now and spent most of his time in Edinburgh. He explained that he owned his own IT consulting firm and said that he had spent most of his life up to this point ‘chasing my career around the globe’.

He told me that he agreed with my views on personal responsibility, which is why he tried not to complain about not having a ‘special someone’, but recently the idea of sharing his life had become more and more important to him. Perhaps, he suggested, at 34 his own biological clock was ticking louder than he would care to admit.

He went on to describe himself, saying that he was 6 ft 1 in. tall, so definitely taller than me. He was mixed-race, with curly hair, brown eyes and an athletic build. He said that he was reasonably well educated and was interested in art, music and literature; he even loved to dance, but although he had tried to learn how to Latin dance during two years he had spent in Buenos Aires, he had failed miserably!

Will stated that he wanted to make it clear from the outset that he was seeking a long-term relationship – a quick ‘fun seeker’ would not find him desirable. ‘My years showing me up,’ he supposed. That said, he also wanted to make it clear that a physical relationship was important to him as he was a very tactile person, and he realised that this might put some people off.

He then went on to say: ‘It would be unfair of me to not tell you at the outset that I cannot have children of my own due to a rather unfortunate bout of mumps as a very young child, so if growing your family naturally is on your cards, then I suppose that I am not the best choice of partners.’ While he was very keen to have children, and got on very well with them, he said he had had to ‘adjust to the fact that I will not have my own biological family and that has been harder at some times than at others. It’s not baggage at all, just reality.’

He wrote some more and then signed off, saying that he would love to meet up some time for a coffee and a chat but if I was not interested then he would at least wish me the very best of luck in my future.

We emailed daily, twice daily, three times – back and forth, flirting, chatting and telling each other more and more about ourselves. All of it wonderful, exciting and new. I stayed calm, as I had been here before and was determined not to get too wrapped up in the anticipation in case I was disappointed when we met. But it was all so natural, easy even, and just felt right. Two weeks passed and we knew so much about each other, had shared many intimate details and still we liked each other. Then came the line that was inevitable: maybe we should talk on the phone.

Absolutely. I gave him my number and he said he’d call within half an hour.

I waited.

No call came.

I emailed asking if he was oK. No answer. I emailed again. I was starting to worry. What on earth could have happened? There was no indication of any hesitancy or doubt in his suggestion to call – he had asked for my number, he had enthusiastically requested it and stated wholeheartedly that he wanted to ring, yet no call came. It made no sense at all.

I fretted all night and went to work the next day anxious. I thought about it constantly, going over and over his emails and trying to understand what could have happened, then reading my own again to see if I’d said anything that could have been misconstrued. Nothing.

I emailed again, asking if he was oK. I had images in my head of him having fallen downstairs and broken his neck. What could have made him vanish within half an hour of sending that message?

Two days later, he got in touch again.

‘Sorry, had to go on a business trip to Spain.’

I was really annoyed. I told him I had been worried and under no circumstances was it oK. I told him to get lost.

He apologised and said he had misunderstood the timescale. He had been distracted by a business call, then had to hurriedly pack and depart. He said he’d thought of me the whole time and missed me. He gave me his number and begged me to phone, saying it was just bad timing and circumstances; he repeatedly emphasised that he really did want to talk to me.

Eventually I calmed down and we arranged that he would ring me that night. At that stage, I was so angry that I did not care if he called or not. But he did and we talked just as naturally as we had via email. I grudgingly forgave him for causing me to worry but I teased him and said he’d better not do it again. He swore he never would and promised to be more considerate in future.

We talked for hours during that first call. He was very open about being infertile and how it had affected his life. Family meant everything to Will. His sister was very important to him and he talked with pride about his mother’s intelligence and how loyal and loving his dad was. He told me how it saddened him that he wasn’t able to have a son to carry on the family name. He would have loved to have had a family of his own but when he found out he was unable to have kids he had turned his focus to his career, becoming a bit of a workaholic. He’d only had one long-term relationship and that had ended because she’d wanted kids. It was his baggage but he had come to terms with it.

The conversation flowed easily and he seemed really interested and attentive. I liked his voice: it was calm, smooth and articulate. His American accent was gentle rather than brash and the edges had been worn down by the eight years he had spent in the UK. He had residency here because of his work and intended to stay because he liked it and it was a good base. He travelled all the time throughout the UK but mostly between Manchester and Edinburgh, as he had an office and staff based in St Andrews Square in Edinburgh but his main client was a company in Manchester.

Will admitted that work had been his life, day and night. With the advent of the 24/7 business culture, communication and IT had to be running all the time, and people were used to him being on call and constantly available to sort out problems. He ran an IT consultancy and communications firm, and one service he offered to clients was to hack into their IT systems to see how secure they were. It was interesting stuff.

I tried to find out more about Will on the Internet and did searches with the information I had. Unfortunately, ‘Will Allen’ brought up a plethora of references and even adding ‘IT consultant’ to the search did not help, as it was still too general.

Will sent me a photograph of himself and I sent him one of me. He was extremely flattering about mine and I was nervous about looking at his. Eventually, however, I opened the file to see a nice face looking back at me. He was not stunning but certainly good looking, with a warm smile and dark eyes. Mixed-race colouring gave him a gentle appearance and he had black short-cropped Afro hair. The glasses – wire-framed US air-force type with slightly rose-tinted lenses – struck me as very 1980s. The photo didn’t reveal God’s gift to women but he did look attractive. I showed the photograph to a couple of my friends who laughed at the glasses but otherwise said he looked quite nice.

Will did not have an ad on the online dating site and told me a work colleague had emailed him about the site. He had come across my ad while killing time waiting for a business call and felt compelled to reply. He had liked and agreed with my philosophy and we discussed our common beliefs at length, including books we’d both read and loved.

By the end of November 2000, we were talking on the phone and emailing daily, and within a couple of weeks I was already feeling very connected to him. our phone calls were always long and we were never lost for things to talk about.