Dumped on hen night!
Jessica has a lucky escape
Thursday 22nd January 2009
Pink, slippery and very firm.
'Ooh,' I screeched. 'It's so slippy, I can't get a grip on it.'
Cue raucous laughter.
'Come on,' howled my best mate, Sophie Dobbs, 19. 'You've waited all night for this.'
She was talking about the half-naked sexy sailor stripper who had my hand gripped in his and was rubbing it all over his muscly chest. Except it was covered in so much baby oil, my hand kept slipping. Suddenly, he whipped off his white trousers to an approving roar from the crowd.
'I'll kill you for this!' I yelled over the cheering.
But, truth was, I was having a whale of a time!
It was 2 February 2008, and I was at Norwich's Traffik Bar, celebrating my hen night.
Dressed in a Guess who's getting married? sash, with a plastic tiara and fairy wand, I looked every inch the bride-to-be. My fiancé, Paul Cuffe, 24, was at home.
'Have fun,' he'd grinned earlier.
We'd been together for two years and one of the things I loved most about Paul was his quirkiness. He loved renting horror DVDs or taking me to haunted houses. And he Paul was great fun too, with a daft sense of humour.
That's why, after 18 months together, I'd proposed by leaving a Will you marry me? note on
a chocolate muffin in the fridge.Thankfully, he'd said yes, so we'd booked Norwich Registry Office for a year later, 29 February 2008, hired an old theatre for our reception and invited 80 guests. I'd found a gorgeous gold and ivory dress for £80 in a charity shop. Now, with just three weeks to go, I was having one last night of wildness. And boy, was it wild! After cavorting with the sexy 'sailor', we headed off to another bar. By 2am, we were all trollied.
'Let's get a cab back to mine,' I said to Sophie.
Still clutching our fairy wands, we piled into the back of a cab. Although Paul and I hadn't called each other during the evening, I knew he'd still be up waiting.But as we pulled up, our ground floor flat was in darkness. He must have gone to bed, I thought, irritated because I hadn't bothered taking my keys. Tipsy and giggling, we rang the doorbell and waited.
I was just about to start banging on the door when I noticed a piece of paper poking out of the letterbox. Tugging it out, I saw it was a note.
Jes, I know this is going to hurt you, but I can't be with you. I'm really sorry. Paul.
Suddenly the world seemed to stop. Stomach churning, I read the note again.
'What's wrong?' Sophie asked.
But I couldn't answer. Legs giving way with shock, I fell into her arms. Helping me to my feet, Sophie read the note, her eyes widening in shock.
'W-we've got to get inside,' I cried.
Our back door was a bit dodgy, so with a bit of jiggling, we got in. Running into the living room, I let out a cry of horror. Paul's books, DVDs and his computer were gone. It had to be a joke, a stupid prank. But the bedroom was in chaos. Paul's clothes were gone, and my things were strewn everywhere from where he'd tugged things out of cupboards.
I rang him in hysterics, but it went straight to his answerphone.
'Why have you done this?' I howled.
I hit redial again, and again. But Paul refused to answer.
I could barely breathe with shock.
'I don't understand,' I croaked.
We hadn't argued, and our sex life had still been good. He'd hugged and kissed me goodbye that very afternoon, promising to wait up.
'Maybe it's pre-wedding jitters,' Sophie suggested.
But Paul had cleared the flat.
'He's not coming back,' I wept.
Phoning my parents, Paul, 44, and Kerry, 42, who lived nearby, I sobbed out my news.
'Oh love,' Dad said. 'Do you want to come round?'
But I couldn't face it right now.
'I'll see you tomorrow,' I said.
At 5am, I fell into an agonised sleep. When I woke hours later, I thought it had all been an awful dream. But glancing at the wardrobe, seeing the empty hangers next to my wedding dress, I realised it was true. While Sophie went to do a shift at the cinema where we both worked, I dragged myself round to my parents'.
'How could he do this?' I ranted.
Paul was still refusing to answer my calls. It was torture. I felt so many emotions over those next two days. Heartbreak, shock and humiliation, as Mum rang round friends and family, telling them the wedding was off.
'I'll take care of cancelling everything,' she said.
There was another emotion too. Rage. How could Paul be such a coward? Three days on, he still hadn't returned my phone calls. Then that night, my mobile went. It was Paul.
'Have you seen my NHS card?' he asked. 'I need it for the dentist.'
I was so shocked, I just spluttered: 'No,' and he hung up.
Fury bubbled from my toes right up to my fists and with a shriek of pure rage, I hurled the phone at the wall. How could he be so callous? The Paul I'd fallen in love with had been replaced by a cold monster. None of it made sense. Then suddenly, I remembered something…About six months earlier, Paul had received a letter from the Child Support Agency, saying he needed to make payments for his two children.
'It's obviously a mistake,' he'd laughed.
But was he really a dad? Maybe his mum, Bea, would have some answers? So I emailed her, telling her everything. The next day, I got a reply.
I'm so sorry he's done this to you, she wrote. He certainly wasn't brought up to behave like this. Then she dropped a bombshell…I think you should know that he married in the US in 2001 and the last I knew he still wasn't divorced.
Does he have children? I wrote.
Yes, two, she replied.
They weren't from his marriage, they were from another relationship. I broke down in tears. How many more shocks could I take? I rang Paul straight away and this time, he answered.
'I know you're married and have two kids,' I seethed.
'OK, I've got two kids,' he admitted. 'But the marriage was annulled.'
'Why didn't you tell me any of this?' I demanded.
'I've made a mistake,' was all he said.
I slammed the phone down.
After a week wallowing at home, I went back to work at the cinema. Although everyone knew what had happened, they were all too embarrassed to mention it. Which just made me feel worse. I'd always been loud and confident, but now my self-esteem was in tatters.
Was I too boring for Paul? Too ugly? Or was it my weight? I'm a size 24. Was that the problem? When he came round the following week to collect some more of his things, I longed to ask him. But somehow, I couldn't find the words. Maybe I was too scared of the truth, I don't know. But I just sat crying on the settee while he collected his stuff.
Then, with a 'See ya', he was gone.
When 29 February dawned, our wedding day, I woke up with a feeling of dread. Over the following days, I tortured myself, trying my wedding dress on, then bursting into tears.
Gradually, thanks to support from friends and family, I began to climb out of the dark hole I'd fallen into. And now, 11 months after I should have married, I'm finally happy again.
I've met a wonderful man called Richard Phillips, 25. We've only been dating for four months, but he's so kind and loving, I've finally learned to trust again. As for my wedding dress, I gave it away on a website. It's in the past now. It's time to move on. As for Paul, I pity him. He's a liar and a coward. He may have broken my heart, but looking back, I think I had a lucky escape.
Paul Cuffe says: 'It's not true that I left Jessica on the hen night. She's incorrect. And she knew about the children. But she didn't know I was married before. We all make mistakes. As far as I'm aware, I'm divorced. That's what my US solicitor said.'