EXCHANGING vows with her handsome groom on a beach in Hawaii at sunset, Tess Stimson knew she looked every inch the picture of a happy bride.
No one watching could have imagined they were anything other than madly in love.
However, the truth was that, as fond as she was of Erik, her gorgeous new husband, he didn’t set her world alight.
Tess shared her story of finding her Mr Ok rather than her Mr Right with Flying Eze…
There were no butterflies in my stomach at the thought of marrying Erik, nor did I feel a tingle of excitement when he entered a room.
He wasn’t my Prince Charming, but rather Mr Safe-and-Secure.
I had already experienced the head-over-heels love story with my first husband, an award-winning war correspondent, 17 years older than me.
He was charismatic, exciting, and very much the alpha male.
But our marriage ended in divorce after six years and two little boys.
What I needed now was the complete opposite – someone less career-driven and a good father to my sons.
I first met Erik, now 54, in April 2001 at a friend’s wedding in , two years after my divorce.
I hardly knew anyone at the reception so when I struck up a conversation with a nice American man sitting at the bar, I was grateful for the attention.
Erik was 6’3, blond, blue-eyed, clean-cut, and undeniably good-looking, but he wasn’t my type.
I had always been drawn to dark-haired men with stubble and a hint of edgy bad-boy charm. By contrast, Erik seemed straightforward.
He was funny, intelligent, and a fantastic listener – he asked so many questions about me and genuinely seemed interested in my answers.
But sparks didn’t fly on my end; he was simply too nice.
Nonetheless, I agreed to see him again, and to my surprise, we ended up in bed.
I flew home to London, never expecting to see him again. Yet Erik kept in touch, and somehow, I found myself emailing or chatting with him almost every day.
Slowly but surely, he became the first person I thought of in the morning and the last person I spoke to at night.
After three months, he flew to London for a couple of weeks, and he was fantastic with Henry and Matt, then seven and four.
They really took to him, even though he didn’t spoil them or try to get them to like him.
He was so easy to be with – my first husband and I had fought all the time, slamming doors and screaming at each other and then enjoying passionate make-up sex.
He wasn’t my Prince Charming, but rather Mr Safe-and-Secure
Tess Stimson
But there was no such drama with Erik. He never played mind games or gave me a reason to doubt him. Yet I blew hot and cold.
I wondered if our relationship lacked excitement and passion. Was I “settling”; because I didn’t want to get hurt again?
Then, in December 2001, my mother died unexpectedly, aged just 59, and Erik immediately got on a plane and flew to be with me.
A few weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant. I told Erik he could be involved if he chose, but I didn’t want anything from him financially or otherwise.
For once, he put his foot down and insisted he was going to be part of his child’s life.
I moved to Florida in June 2002, when I was six months pregnant, and our daughter, Lily, now 22, was born that September.
Erik was a very hands-on father, getting up in the middle of the night to feed Lily and taking the boys off my hands when I needed a break.
He wanted to get married, but I was still too raw from my .
So, he left the offer of marriage on the table, telling me to let him know when I was ready.
Eventually, when Lily was 18 months old, I agreed. I’m ashamed to admit it now, but in the back of my mind, I thought we could always get divorced if I met someone who swept me off my feet.
Erik knew I still had reservations. Yet, for some reason, he had this blind faith in us as a couple.
His parents looked after the children, and we flew to for two weeks.
We got married on the beach with only a Hawaiian priestess as our witness.
Our marriage wasn’t perfect, of course, but there were none of the plate-smashing fights that had characterised my first marriage or any of my previous relationships.
It took me a long time to drop my guard, but I came to trust Erik.
Over the years, that trust became the bedrock of our marriage.
He was always so kind to me. His kindness made me kinder in return and enabled me to be a better version of myself.
However, I didn’t realise just how much I loved him until the . Our empty nest coincided with lockdown, and suddenly, we were stuck with each other 24/7.
It could have been a disaster, but instead, it turned out to be the best year of our lives. We had so much fun together; it felt like being newlyweds.
We watched each other’s favourite childhood TV shows, played cards, cooked together – all the ordinary things you normally do when you’ve just met.
Women are raised on a diet of Cinderella fairytales, and even though we should know better, we too often buy into the idea that a great love story needs passion and drama
Tess Stimson
One afternoon, after Erik had fallen asleep on the sofa, I sat watching his chest gently rise and fall.
In that moment, I realised I loved him in a way I couldn’t even put into words.
Women are raised on a diet of Cinderella fairytales, and even though we should know better, we too often buy into the idea that a great love story needs passion and drama.
It might be exciting in the short term, but soap-opera fights and make-up sex are signs of an insecure, immature relationship.
Coming home to a man who hugs you and snuggles up on the sofa to watch a box set is far more romantic than clearing up broken china after yet another row.
The greatest love story is the one that lasts and is built on friendship, kindness, tolerance, and companionship.
My Mr OK turned out to be Prince Charming after all.
‘The New House’ by Tess Stimson, published by Avon, out now.
tessstimson.com
