When I said 'I do', I knew I was settling. Twenty years on, here's the unvarnished truth about marrying Mr OK rather than Mr Right By Tess Stimson Published: 01:47, 20 September 2024 | Updated: 01:47, 20 September 2024 e-mail View comments Exchanging vows with my handsome groom on a beach in Hawaii as the sun set behind us, I knew I looked the very picture of the happy bride. In my £2,000 pearl-encrusted wedding dress, my hair caught up in my mother’s family tiara, I’d never felt more beautiful.
Total strangers at our £1,400-per-night resort were caught up in the romance of it all, throwing leis — Hawaiian garlands of flowers — at our feet. No one watching could have supposed we were anything other than madly in love. But the truth was, as fond as I was of Erik, my gorgeous new husband, he didn’t set my world alight.
Tess with her husband Erik, whom she met in 2001 at a friend's wedding in Florida. 'I was 34, I’d been divorced two years, and was still nursing a heart broken twice over,' she writes Erik and Tess married in Hawaii, with just a priestess as a witness. 'In my £2,000 pearl-encrusted dress, my hair caught up in my mother’s family tiara, I’d never felt more beautiful' There were no butterflies in my stomach at the thought of marrying him, and I didn’t feel a tingle of excitement when he entered a room.
He wasn’t my Prince Charming, but Mr Safe-and-Secure. Which is why, when I read the recent confession in this paper of a woman who’d settled for a man she wasn’t in love with, I felt a bolt of recognition. Like her, I’d already done the head-over-heels love story with my first husband, an award-winning war correspondent 17 years older than me.
He’d swept me off my feet: on our first date, he’d taken me flying in a light aircraft, and he proposed to me on our second. But our marriage had ended in bitter divorce after six years and two little boys. I’d then ricocheted into the arms of a diamond merchant from Lebanon, with whom I had the most intense chemistry I’d ever known.
I fell for him hard and fast, but he had no intention of taking on my sons, Henry, then seven, and Matt, four. When he abruptly ended things, I was absolutely devastated. What I needed was the opposite of these men, someone less career-driven and more concerned with being a good father to my boys.
Someone who’d be grateful to have me, so that this time I’d have the upper hand. Only when I found this in Erik, I thought it was ‘settling’ and assumed that at some point I’d want to move on to find that perfect love match. Well, last April Erik and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary.
And I have no plans to extricate myself from my marriage now we have an empty nest. Because against expectations, I’ve come to love my ‘Mr OK’ with all my heart, and the thought of losing him makes me feel sick to my stomach. I first met Erik, now 53, in April 2001 at a friend’s wedding in Florida.
I was then aged 34, I’d been divorced two years, and was still nursing a heart broken twice over. I hardly knew anyone at the reception, so when I got chatting to a nice American man sitting at the bar, I was grateful for the attention. Erik was 6ft 3in, blond, blue-eyed, clean cut and very good-looking, but he wasn’t my type.
I’d always gone for dark-haired men with stubble and more than a hint of edgy bad boy. By contrast, Erik seemed straightforward. He was a college fundraiser — the kind of job I found worthy but dull.
But he was funny, intelligent and a fantastic listener — he asked so many questions about me, and really seemed interested in my answers. Tess recalls: 'Erik was 6ft 3in, blond, blue-eyed, clean cut and very good-looking, but he wasn't my type. I'd always gone for dark-haired men with stubble and more than a hint of bad boy' He asked me out to dinner, and initially I declined.
But when I told my friend, she said a holiday romance was just what I needed. So I gave Erik my number, and we went out for a pleasant evening. Sparks didn’t fly at my end.
He was just too nice. Nonetheless, I agreed to see him again, and somewhat to my surprise, this time we ended up in bed. He turned out to be a very skilled lover, which made me reconsider my first impressions, but I still didn’t see him as a long-term proposition.
I flew home to London never expecting to see him again. Yet Erik kept in touch, and somehow I found myself emailing or chatting to him almost every day. Slowly but surely, he became the first person I thought of in the morning, and the last I spoke to at night.
But I still didn’t see him as husband material. My previous relationships had left me associating love with drama and pain and passion, not conversation and compatibility. After three months, Erik flew to London for a couple of weeks, and he was fantastic with Henry and Matt.
They took to him, even though he didn’t spoil them or try to get them to like him. He also met my parents. Read More EXCLUSIVE This is the real reason EVERYONE middle-aged is divorcing.
.. and why your marriage is at risk My mother, Jane, always a shrewd judge of character, liked him immediately, and told me he was just what I needed.
‘He sees through you,’ she said. I didn’t know what she meant. As far as I could see, I was in charge.
Erik never argued with me, even when I behaved like a total diva and threw his suitcase out of the window when he forgot to renew my car insurance as I’d asked him to. He just waited for me to calm down. He was always the first to say sorry, even when he was in the right.
I visited him again that October, having been offered a job teaching at a university in Florida. We became a couple almost by default: he was my best friend, and the sex between us was always electric, but something still held me back. My first husband and I had fought all the time, slamming doors and screaming at each other then enjoying passionate make-up sex.
But there was no such drama with Erik. He never played mind games or gave me reason to doubt him. But the more he reassured me, the more I backed away.
Looking back, I can’t believe Erik put up with me — though he says now he enjoyed the challenge. 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 couldn’t help thinking this was my mother’s last gift to me, and decided to keep the baby. 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 would 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 21, was born that September. Erik was a very hands-on father, getting up in the night to feed Lily and taking the boys off my hands when I needed a break. He wanted to get married, saying he loved me and was in this for the long haul, but I refused point-blank.
I said I was too raw from the divorce. He accepted that, but the truth was, deep down, I still saw him as a ‘placeholder’. I was convinced the lack of conflict and jealousy in our relationship meant it lacked passion.
Initially, I wouldn’t even let him live with us. I insisted he kept his own flat, though after a year when he didn’t spend a single night at his place, I realised I was being silly and let him officially move in. He left the offer of marriage on the table, telling me to let him know when I was ready, and when Lily was 18 months old, I agreed.
I reasoned he was a decent, loving man who’d be a good husband and give the children some stability, and I did have feelings for him. Erik knew I still had reservations. And yet, for some reason, he had this blind faith in us as a couple.
He didn’t have any doubts when it came to how he felt about me, and was convinced we were perfect for each other. So Erik’s parents looked after the children and we flew to Hawaii for two weeks, and got married on the beach with only a Hawaiian priestess as witness. After the birth of their daughter, Tess still put off marrying Erik.
But, she says, he 'had this blind faith in us as a couple...
and was convinced we were perfect for each other' Now after their long, happy marriage, Tess says: 'Our love was a slow burn, but from small acorns, mighty oaks grow...
Mr Safe-and-Secure turned out to be Prince Charming after all' The morning after our wedding, I suddenly got a text from my diamond dealer in Lebanon, who I hadn’t heard from in two years. I didn’t reply, but just hearing from him threw me into turmoil. I got back from my honeymoon wondering if I’d just made a huge mistake.
But our life together was good, so I pushed my doubts aside, and focused on my family. Our marriage wasn’t perfect but there were none of the plate-smashing fights that had characterised my first marriage, or previous relationships. But in our early years together, I was very high maintenance.
I’d often lose my temper with Erik and storm out but instead of fighting back, he’d apologise and we’d go through this ritual where I’d refuse to speak to him, until he talked me round. I came to trust the way Erik handled my moods and over the years, that trust became the bedrock of our marriage. He was always so kind to me.
It made me kinder back, and enabled me to be a better version of myself. My mother was right: Erik had seen through me, to the vulnerable person beneath the insecurities. When I asked him recently why he married me, knowing how much I was holding back, he said he knew I was just scared and trying to save face.
He believed I loved him, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself — and he was right. I didn’t realise just how much I loved him until the pandemic. I’d always dreaded Lily leaving home, knowing it would throw me and Erik together for the first time since we’d met.
I was terrified we’d have nothing in common. Our empty nest coincided with lockdown, and suddenly we were stuck with each other 24/7. It could have been a disaster — but it was the best year of our lives.
We had so much fun, it was 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. We’d never had a real honeymoon stage because of the children.
One afternoon, after Erik had fallen asleep on the sofa, I sat watching his chest rising and falling and realised I loved him in a way I couldn’t put into words. I’d loved him all along, but hadn’t had the sense to see it, because I was so caught up in what I thought love should look like. But that hormone-driven infatuation we call being ‘in love’ never lasts, and I’m convinced our obsession with it is a main reason so many people get divorced.
Erik has never said ‘I told you so’ — but he does occasionally remind me I don’t always know a good thing when I see it! Our love was a slow burn, but from small acorns, mighty oaks grow. The greatest love story is the one that lasts, and is built on friendship, kindness, tolerance and companionship. Mr Safe-and-Secure turned out to be Prince Charming after all.
The New House by Tess Stimson, (£9.99, Avon) is out now. London Hawaii Florida Share or comment on this article: When I said 'I do', I knew I was settling.
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