I’d just split up with my boyfriend (read: was dumped) here in New Zealand and had nowhere to live. I was fairly new, didn’t know that many people, didn’t really know what to do and was just generally feeling a bit sideswiped and shit.
I had one new friend, B, who I’d messaged, telling her what had happened. “You can stay with us, of course.” She happened to be in the UK though. “I wish we had a spare key somewhere so you could go there now.”
She was staying another couple of weeks but her other half, Justin, was coming back in a few days, so she said I could have their spare room then. I’d only met him once, very briefly, when slightly sozzled on our infamous ‘white wine’ afternoon.
So I found myself turning up at their house with my life packed into a couple of bags and my bike an hour after he’d just got off a plane from the UK. The poor chap had jet lag and didn’t know me but said “us expats have got to stick together” and welcomed me into their home. I was sad, in need of talking and he got all my verbal diarrhoea and outloud thinking while I tried to make sense of everything and start to figure out what I wanted to do. He somehow knew when and how to say the right thing, when to listen and gave a bloke’s perspective. Incredibly helpful and so kind.
Now Justin is used to me. I sometimes talk A LOT. I drop in at their house after work, make myself tea, flop on their sofa, talk gibberish then leave. Sometimes “I fancy a drink” Tara turns up and we laugh, watch random TV, I talk gibberish and then leave. I think he has endless patience, is a not-so-secret fan of cheesy music and not afraid of a good dance or two.
Both J and B are Ace with a capital A and I’m bloody lucky to have them both in my NZ life 🙂