A letter to my Valentine

Private Property South Africa
Martin Hatchuel

Dearest of Dearests. You know that I’m not a sentimental fool, but today of all days I just felt I wanted to write to you to thank you for making my dreams come true.

From the moment we met, I knew we were meant for each other. (Actually it was earlier than that: it was when I saw your ad on line, and you smiled out at me from the screen. Sigh. I knew it because you smiled for me and me alone!)

And that first date. Ha ha! How funny you were, taking me out to exactly the wrong kind of place, and then how embarrassed, and then how sweet when you invited me out again. And again and again and again. New places every few days - exciting places, cosy places, exotic places, brash, loud, hip and happening places. We laughed and we told stories and I took photos - hundred of photos! - and I began to look forward to your invitations with such incredible anticipation that I’d get butterflies and I’d even start to shake whenever the phone rang.

Maybe you didn’t ring as often as I wanted, but maybe that was just me: I wanted to put the pressure on, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to let our relationship evolve in its own time.

And ohh! How it evolved!

Remember the time you mailed me for a date and I said I couldn’t go because I had an appointment with the dentist? I swear I felt more pain rejecting you like that than I did from her drill. (OK, her injection, but you know what I mean.)

I have to admit something to you here: you’re very good at what you do. Where did you learn...? But maybe I don’t really want to know.

What I do know is that you got to know me so well that you literally blew me away on that last outing of ours.

It was just the kind of place to make me weak at the knees, and you knew it. Leafy, secluded, and with that explosion of perfect roses in that Grecian pot in that sweet little courtyard - I dream of dozing away a sunny winter’s afternoon with a good book in that happy place.

It was inevitable, then. I just had to pop the question.

Of course the inevitable also included an agony of waiting - perhaps the longest 24 hours of my life - but the answer I wanted came eventually, and you delivered it personally (the bottle of bubbly was a nice touch, BTW.)

Your client had accepted my offer.

The house was mine.

You’re a brilliant agent, my funny Valentine!

All of us at PrivateProperty.co.za wish all of you, our readers, your happiest Valentine’s Day of 2015.

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