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	<title>A Chance of a lifetime - Revision history</title>
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		<title>Fpywwk at 04:07, 14 January 2008</title>
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		<updated>2008-01-14T04:07:41Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;New page&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;This is a chance of a life time,&amp;quot; I declared to my friend Stacy as I locked the door of my office and left the restaurant I managed. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s every twenty-seven-year-old woman&amp;#039;s dream to live in New York City, and in a few months I&amp;#039;ll know if I get the transfer.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I watched the moonlight glisten on the waters of Laguna Beach. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll miss [http://www.ibuy-sell.com ibuy-sell] here, but living in the Big Apple is everything I&amp;#039;ve ever wanted - a dream come true.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We met a group of our friends at a local cafe , and I jabbered on about the possibility of my move. Laughter erupted from a nearby table. I watched as a handsome man captured the attention of his friends with his engaging story. His broad, warm smile and air of confidence held me in a trance. Stacy nudged me. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re staring,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Michelle, and about to drool.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Wow,&amp;quot; I whispered. I watched the gorgeous guy push up the sleeves of his bulky sweater. Everyone at his table had their eyes fixed on him. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s the man I want to marry.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yeah, right,&amp;quot; Stacy droned. &amp;quot;Tell us more about where you&amp;#039;d like to live in New York, because we all plan to visit you there when you land this job. &amp;quot; As I spoke my gaze drifted back to the debonair man.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Three months later my friends and I gathered at the same restaurant. &amp;quot;To life in the Big Apple!&amp;quot; they cheered as we tapped our glasses together. &amp;quot;My chance of a lifetime!&amp;quot; We talked for hours. I told them of my plan to save money by moving out of my beach cottage and renting a room for the few remaining months. Our friend offered, &amp;quot;I have a fellow South African friend who is considering renting one of the four bedrooms in his house. His name is Barry. A great guy.&amp;quot; He scribbled on a napkin. &amp;quot;This is his number. He&amp;#039;s a forty-two-year-old confirmed bachelor. Says he&amp;#039;s much too busy being a single dad to be a husband.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made an appointment to see the room the same day. I approached the entrance of the spacious house, and the door opened. &amp;quot;You must be Michelle,&amp;quot; he said. He pushed up the sleeves of his bulky sweater and flashed his handsome smile. It was the man from the restaurant months before --- the man I wanted to marry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I stood staring, my mouth gaping, hoping I wasn&amp;#039;t drooling.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;You are Michelle, aren&amp;#039;t you? &amp;quot; he said, coaxing me out of my trance.&amp;quot; Would you like to see the room?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Fpywwk</name></author>
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