'The wedding's off! I slept with the stripper!'
Thursday 28th May 2009
There are three types of sex. The mind-blowing sort, the comfortable type you have with your husband and, well, the boring, 'watch paint dry', type. Unfortunately, the sex I'd just had with my new boyfriend Kevin McCleary, 33, fell into the third category. 'That was… weird,' I told him afterwards, as we lay naked in each other's arms. 'I know,' Kevin admitted. 'It'll get better.' I hoped so. Because I loved Kevin more than anyone, I really did. He was like a boyfriend, a big brother and my best friend all rolled into one and it seemed to make sense that we should get together.
I'd known Kevin since I was 11. We'd been thick as thieves, getting up to all sorts of mischief. He'd joined the army at 18 and moved away, but he was always there for me, writing letters and phoning. He was the one man I could rely on. I had a failed marriage under my belt, and my 8-year-old daughter, Alysha, was the only good thing to come out of another failed relationship. I desperately needed something to work out. But in April 2008, when my mate Mike had joked about me and Kevin getting married, I thought it was so hilarious, I phoned Kevin. He didn't laugh, though. 'It's not such a bad idea,' he said. 'D-don't be silly,' I spluttered. But when he next came to visit me in Florida, his comment hung in the air between us.
We went clubbing with a crowd of friends and I found myself sneaking little looks at him, only to find him staring right back at me. When I mentioned it to my mate, Vivian Makris, she screamed: 'Go for it!' What did I have to lose? Kevin was funny, kind, and Alysha loved him. So what if he wasn't a muscled love god? With his strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes, he wasn't unattractive. He was just… Kevin. At 2am, when he drove me home, I decided to kiss him. And now, here I was, having sex with my best friend. OK, the sex was rubbish but when Kevin wrapped his arms around me, it felt like magic. Who needed raw, passionate sex? The fire eventually goes out of a relationship anyway.
A week later, he took me out for dinner at a seafood restaurant. I'd just finished my crab dinner when he got down on one knee and held up a diamond solitaire ring. 'Please marry me,' he said. He sounded so sincere, I thought my heart might break. And at that moment, sex was the last thing on my mind. I couldn't think of anything better than spending the rest of my life with Kevin. 'Yes!' I gasped. It was all so perfect. We'd already planned to go on a Caribbean cruise with Kevin's family the following February, so we decided to have that as our honeymoon. Alysha was like an over-excited puppy when we told her. 'Can I be bridesmaid, Mum?' she said happily. Swept up in her enthusiasm I booked a church for 12 December, just two months on, and planned a reception at a Japanese restaurant. Meanwhile, Kevin was planning to sell his house and move in with me once we got married.
Two weeks before the wedding, Vivian organised for 12 of us to meet at hers and go clubbing. 'I need to warn you, you're having a stripper,' she told me. 'I should hope so!' I laughed. I even helped her choose him online. His name was George, and I loved his dark looks and the way his unbuttoned white shirt hung over his rippling muscles. On the night, as I downed champagne punch, I wasn't disappointed. As soon as George walked through the door, our jaws dropped to the floor. He was over 6ft of pure Latino love god, with dark hair, bronzed muscles and buns so tight you could bounce pennies off them. To top it off, he was wearing a paramedic's outfit that instantly had me wishing he'd give me mouth-to-mouth. 'Who's the bride-to-be?' he purred in a Spanish accent. 'Me! Me!' I yelled. 'Congratulations,' he grinned, kissing me on the cheek, and placing a stool in the middle of the room for me to sit on. As music blared out, George started to wiggle his hips and lick his lips. I was practically dribbling as he whipped off his white shirt and writhed about on my lap. As I ran my hands down his muscles, and gave his bum a playful slap, Kevin was the last thing on my mind.
After 45 minutes, George had finished his act and was down to a tiny pair of black briefs. 'Come to the club with us,' one of the girls suggested to him. 'Why not?' he smiled. 'I'm not working for the rest of the night.' So an hour on, I found myself in The View nightclub, dancing with George. By the time it closed, we were dancing so closely, I could feel his pecs through his shirt. While I'd been downing cocktails all night, he was stone cold sober. 'Need a lift home?' he asked. 'Please,' I grinned. In the front seat of his car, he took my hand, and… let's just say, I wasn't behaving like a bride-to-be. By the time we got to my house, I needed a fire extinguisher to put me out. George's feet didn't touch the ground as I pulled him into my bedroom. Sex with him was everything I thought it would be and more. Utterly mindblowing. Waking up in George's arms the following morning, I should have been overcome with guilt. I should have rung Kevin and begged for his forgiveness. Instead, George dropped me off at Vivian's, where I'd left my car, and I drove to the shop to get some milk. Pulling into the car park, I turned off the engine. Alone for the first time since the night before, I felt a lightbulb going off in my head. I can't marry Kevin. Not after what I've done. I'd felt a thousand times more passion in one night with a stripper than I ever had with the man I was meant to be marrying in six days.
Resting my head on the steering wheel, I started to sob. It wasn't that I'd fallen for George. But had I even fallen for Kevin? I just didn't know. I sat in that car park and cried for two hours. Then I drove back to Vivian's place. 'I slept with George,' I admitted. 'I don't know if I can marry Kevin right now.' 'If you have doubts, you've got to put it off,' she advised me. So that's what we decided I'd do. Put off the wedding until I was sure. Only, I couldn't tell Kevin over the phone. I waited two days, until he turned up for our wedding. I was a bag of nerves when I met him at the airport that lunchtime. As we ate at Pizza Hut, I couldn't look him in the eye. 'Is everything OK?' he asked when we got in the car. 'I'm not ready to get married yet,' I confessed. 'The passion isn't there. I should want to rip your clothes off and I don't.' 'Let's try having sex again,' Kevin pleaded. 'I'll move in with you.' 'No, I need time,' I insisted, shaking my head. 'I'm confused.'
I phoned everyone that day and cancelled the wedding. Kevin stayed for the next week, but things were strained. He bought me a big bunch of red roses and tried to talk. I felt awful. He was in bits and it was all my fault. But no amount of talking or roses could fix something that was so wrong. The day of our marriage, we went to Disney World with Alysha instead. When he went home two days later, we didn't even hug. He was bitter, and I didn't blame him. Five months on, we don't speak at all and I've not seen George the stripper since. I've lost a dear friend because of my stupidity. I've never told Kevin about George, but I think he suspected something. I feel awful for breaking his heart, but that stripper was an accident waiting to happen, and better to find out before the wedding. As lightbulb moments go, though, it was quite a whopper, I will admit.
George said: 'This was the first time I've ever done this. I'm sorry Mary split with her fiancé but I don't regret it. She's a great girl.'