Tom Selleck and I are getting married.

For those of you that don't know (which is essentially everyone as it happened so fast) I've moved to Australia. Yes, that's Australia, in the Southern Hemisphere, Australia with all them kangaroos and koala bears, crocodiles and Mick Dundee and what not. Ta daaaaa! I'm here. Didn't see that one coming, me neither but I'm here. And yes, it's wonderful. That makes 2011 a dual-emigration-across-three-different-continents new record for me. Allows pause for approving nod. I'm getting to see loads of the world and it's fabulous, yadda yadda yadda. That's not what I'm here to talk about. No, it's far more interesting. TomSelleckcalledmesexy kind of interesting. That's what I'm here to tell you about today. That's my news. What enormous fabulous news I hear you say. Of course I'll elaborate, thanks for asking. Here's the background:
So I'm sitting in my new temporary abode one evening on my lonesome, minding my own business, watching telly (it's all go here I tell you) drinking tea and rediscovering the delights of Fry's Turkish delight (available in all good petrol stations). When I flick over the channels and lo and behold to my utter delight there stands Tom Selleck in all his magnificent mustached glory. He was just as I remembered him, manly and gorgeous and coming and going as he pleased. Leaving behind him a trail of swooning high waisted short wearing, bouffant haired, females. I was delighted to see him, man I miss Magnum PI. I'd even forgotten how much I'd loved him. Thank you Australia for your endless repeats of nostalgia. It makes the prospect of involuntary unemployment somewhat less daunting knowing I can solve mysteries with Jessica Fletcher. Anyhow, speaking of people who never worked- did we ever truly find out if Higgins was indeed the elusive Robin Masters? I have vague recollection of a confession but it's blurred out by all the sexiness Tom was extruding (extruding. Is that even a word? Fuckit, it's late I'm not deleting nor googling it). Answers on a postcard please.


Back to my point. Being on my lonesome as afore mentioned,  who could I possibly gush too except the whole universe. Hello twitter. Well, the gods shone down on me and heard my tiny tweet and alerted none other than the man himself, Mr Selleck. Yes, Tom Selleck replied....... Pauses for exceptionally long period followed by appreciative gasp and slow clap and mostly the opportunity for readers to make sense of the below screen grab. 

See Fig 1:

Can you imagine my utter elation waking up the next morning to a response from ze Tom Selleck. That's a rhetorical question because OF COURSE YOU CAN. So this happens and I float to work that morning through a beatific haze of possibility. On my way I imagine how our online affair shall progress. Now that he thinks I'm sexy he'll probably want to marry me, naturally. Which I'm ok with. Though there's always Fergal (my long suffering boyfriend) to consider. Sheesh, talk about an inconvenience. I wonder how Tom would feel about some kind of polygamous relationship? I decide Fergal and Tom will probably be ok with this, after all I am sexy. Next problem is where we'd live. Man, I'd only just arrived in Australia, another international move would be really draining. I decide it's probably best we live out our polygamous marriage here as I quite like it and after all I'm sexy, they should come to me. All is going swimmingly when I realise Tom's pretty old now and he'll probably tell me he doesn't want kids, just like he did to Monica. This could have been devastating were I not one step ahead of him. I'd have my Tom Selleck babies with Fergal and then we'd all raise them in one joyous, strangely hairy polygamous family. That day at work I was an absolute delight, if somewhat unproductive. 


My new fond marital bliss was short lived though, very short lived. Almost as short as Kim Kardashians. Seven hours to be exact. I should have known better. I'd read People magazines a million times. All celebrity marriages are doomed, hollywood romances never last. Of course it was the ultimate in humiliation to find out the way I did. Logging back on to stalk my future husband I discover:  

Had he forgotten that I was sexy already? Did the tweet mean nothing to him?  Despair. And so it as quickly as it began it was over. All my hopes and dreams dashed by one Mia Bethany's and her happy vagina.


Well that's taught me my lesson. I'm much nicer to Fergal now, even though he knew nothing of our imaginary polygamous marriage and Tom Selleck babies. But best of all he's not on twitter.