A Love Story: Tequila Shots To Early Nights

Issue 4 - With Love & Lattes, Rita

This week, I heard something that I never expected to hear and of all the weeks, it had to be Valentine’s, the weekend of love. Instead of hearts and flowers, mine came with something far less romantic: the realisation that we’ve traded tequila shots for early nights.

I met Pen (nickname, not birth name) online.

He’s my partner, my best friend, my partner-in-crime. Our relationship just works. One evening he casually dropped the bombshell: “Weve turned into that pipe and slippers kind of couple, don’t you think?”

I knew it, but hearing it out loud, just makes it’s more real. This wasn’t just a passing comment; it felt like a shift, the ending of one thing and the beginning of another. Almost like grief. Mourning the chapter of the dynamic duo that we once were - electric, exciting, and wild.

I shouldn’t be sad, but I am.

Let me take you back because this story started long before dating apps were a thing.

I met Pen 35 years ago. Back then, he was one of my boyfriend’s best mates. We were part of the same group, hanging around and sneaking cheeky flirts when no one was looking. Some nights, I’d spend more time chatting to Pen than to my actual boyfriend. I never saw him once that relationship ended and as life does - we moved on. We both moved away, got married, had kids, did all the things that responsible 30 somethings do.

Fast forward 25 years.

I was on a night out with my girlfriends, he was out with the lads, true to form, we ended up in a corner, chatting away. At that time, I was a mess. I’d just lost my mum and wasn’t coping well with her death. I’d left my husband and son in some desperate attempt to make sense of it all and found myself living in a house I didn’t want nor could afford. I had no idea who I was, what I was doing - I was functioning on autopilot.

That night, Pen left the company of his mates, took me for a curry, and let me spill my heart out over a Chicken Tikka. He could see I was unhinged, a shadow of the girl he once knew, he just sat and listened. Poor lad, never got a word in edgeways. At the end of the night I made that embarrassing mistake, the one you see in rom-coms where the emotionally wrecked woman invites the nice guy in for coffee?? Not my best decision. Thankfully and rightly so, because he was still married, he said, “No.”

A few years later, I was in a much better place. I was dealing with my grief, my confidence had returned, and I was back on the dating scene. Guess who I bumped into? This time, he was single – he and his wife had just split. The chemistry was still there, but again, we only chatted like long-lost pals. When he dropped me off home, he was the one making the rom-com gesture and asked if I was going to invite him in for coffee???

I laughed. “Get to the back of the queue,” I said, winking as I shut the taxi door.

He loved the banter, my witty response – Rita Rae was back, he thought!

A year later, with too many online dates under my belt - I’d had enough. The endless texting, the coffee dates, men thinking I’m some sort of free therapist as they offload their breakup stories, oh and let’s not forget the ‘dick pic’ collection that was unintentionally building in my galley.

The oddballs kept coming. One guy proposed on our 2^nd date, one invited me to a kids’ soft play as he was babysitting his grandson and another went and bought 10 black t-shirts because I’d mentioned how I liked a man in a plain black tee. Red Flags!!!

Men my age weren’t interested in women their own age – heaven forbid, not when there were plenty of 30+ females looking for older guys, so my target audience sat around pension age. At this point, I’d resigned myself to the fact that ‘my person’ just wasn’t out there.

One Friday night, just me and a bottle of wine, I decided to have one last scroll on ‘Bumble’, before deleting my profile for good. There he was - Pen. No filters, nothing staged, just my smiley old friend taking a selfie in his dusty work gear. I looked at him differently. Could this really work?

I sent him a message: “Hiya, stranger. Haven’t seen you around for a while. What are you doing on here?”

The following weekend, we were holding hands on our first date, drinking shots, laughing and finally kissing. It was easy. It really did work.

That was six years ago.

Those six years have been the best years of my life. He gets me. We have the same dreams. We laugh. We make each other feel safe. Two years ago, we sold our homes, moved to the countryside, and started fresh in a brand-new home of our own. Just the two of us. A perfect team.

However, last Saturday night, 9.30pm, we climbed into bed equipped with books and reading glasses and that’s when he casually dropped out that line about us now being a pipe and slippers kind of couple.

He was right.

Who had drunk all the Tequila? When had the kitchen disco ball stopped spinning? Why was there no more rock tunes blaring from the Bose and what had happened to the 5am chats where we discussed everything and anything? This was it - we had traded sparks for slippers and I hadn’t even seen it coming.

In my moment of panic, I started trawling Google - ‘Was our relationship over?’.

Apparently there are 5 stages to a relationship, did you even know that? I didnt.

The Honeymoon Stage - Butterflies, passion, the ‘can’t keep your hands off each other’ energy. You’ve found your ‘soul mate’.

The Power Struggle - Differences may start to show, and conflicts may arise. Some couples may not even make it past this stage.

The Stability Stage - Trust grows, love extends beyond attraction, offering a sense of security.

The Commitment Stage - You choose to be together, shared dreams and build a future together.

The Acceptance Stage - Real love. Respect, support, partnership. You weather the storms together.

Turns out, we’re at stage 5.

I shouldn’t feel sad about mourning the honeymoon phase. No couple could keep up the pace we lived back then - not even Pammie and Tommy Lee. We should be celebrating, excited that we’ve made it to stage five! This is the start of a new path, one where we make the rules and create something that’s ours.

With an empty nest, it's just the two of us. Every night could be date night if we wanted. How lucky are we? For the first time in our lives, we get to focus on us. We know how easy it is to fall into a rut, we've both been married before, so we need to learn from past mistakes - make an effort, try new things, listen to one another and most importantly laugh, a lot!

People change, relationships evolve, but we’re still here, still growing and experiencing life together. And honestly? I wouldn’t want to be reading my book in bed on a Saturday night with anyone else.

Thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this issue as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

With Love & Lattes is my weekly newsletter, written straight from the heart. If something inspires me that week, I’ll write about it - whether it’s a conversation I’ve had, a post I’ve read, a place I’ve visited, my highs, my lows, or just some random, crazy thoughts. I want to transport you to your favourite coffee shop, where we sit with lattes in hand, catching up on our weekly goings-on, like old friends.

Same time, same place next week?

Rita