Do you remember the old Mary McGregor song, Torn Between Two Lovers? It's a beautiful song that does exactly what it says on the tin, so to speak. Just in case you don't know it, or in case you'd like to hear it again, it's here, on YouTube.
The lady in the song can't decide between the two men in her life. As the words go:
'Torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool/ Loving both of you is breaking all the rules.'
I have been where that lady has been, in that dark place where you must make the impossible and unenviable choice between two equally worthy men. You know that, whichever one you choose, there will still be heartbreak, because both of them are equally worthy of your total affection.
You lie awake at night, agonising over the choice, wishing you could see into the future to help you make that vital decision, because once the choice is made, there can be no going back. Hearts will be broken, lives will be irrevocably changed, and if you make the wrong decision, the fall out will be even worse than you imagined.
Dear readers, let me tell you I have lived the nightmare of that song ever since I saw the Wimbledon draw and realised that my two favourite tennis players - Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal - were scheduled to meet in the semi-final, all things being equal. As a Brit and a connoisseur of good tennis and fantastic male bodies, of course I want Andy to win. It's been 77 years since Fred Perry's last win, so most of us have never seen a British man lift the iconic cup in the air at the end of the second week of Wimbledon.
And since he broke down after Federer smashed his dreams last year, I've actually liked the guy, as well as lusting after his body and appreciating his strokes. Oh, if only I could experience those amazing ground strokes for myself .... Sorry, I got a bit carried away there - where was I? Oh yes - torn between two tennis players.
I've always admired Rafa as well. Like Andy, he's a great player with a great body, and it makes this old lady very happy just to watch him move around the court. He also has a fantastically sexy voice, and he hasn't let his fame go to his head. While he may not be conventionally handsome, I sometimes get so lost in my fantasies about a love match with Rafa that I lose track of the scores. Oh my goodness, I think I'd better take a cold shower before I continue. The keyboard's overheating, and so am I!
That's better. As I was saying, I've been torn between the two tennis playing loves of my life. How could I, in all conscience, cheer on Andy when if he wins, it means Rafa must lose? On the other hand, Rafa's been there, done that and got the t-shirt several times over, so how could I celebrate the destruction of the Dunblane Darling's dream yet again? What's a girl to do?
Thankfully, the emotional turmoil is finally ended, because Rafa crashed out in the first round. The choice has been made for me, and I can carry Andy towards the title on a wave of love without feeling I'm cheating on Rafa.
The romantic in me wants to believe that Rafa sacrificed himself to spare me two weeks of emotional trauma, but the practical side of me realises that those dodgy knees let him down again. I have Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis, so I know all about dodgy knees. Rafa and I have more in common than I realised. I wonder if he wants them massaging? I could do that!
