Experience: a typo led me to my soulmate

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/apr/11/experience-typo-led-me-to-my-soulmate

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Friends say my story is like a Hollywood romcom, but I'm not sure that's true. I think if this happened in a film, people would say it was too far-fetched.

One day in 2001, I replied to a request for literary submissions in my local newspaper in upstate New York. I'm a poet, and the piece was asking for contributors to a new magazine.

I sent an example of my work on a whim, and didn't think any more about it until I received a reply from an archaeology lecturer called Phil. He said he'd received three messages like mine and wondered where I'd got his contact details from. He was worried someone was using his address illegally.

It was such a polite message that I felt compelled to look into it. I contacted the newspaper and they explained that they had actually printed an incorrect address – it should have been "author45", but instead it was "author54" – and so I wrote to Phil to tell him.

That would have been that, but the next evening he saw me online and sent a message saying hi. I never usually speak to anyone I don't know, but for some reason I replied. We messaged for only 20 minutes – about my writing and his work – but there was an instant connection. At one point he asked why I was up so late. It was 7pm. That's when something clicked. I said: "Oh gosh, where are you? I'm in the United States."

I waited a few seconds: "You're a Yank?" Phil was 3,000 miles away in Sheffield, England.

At the end, we signed off quite formally: nice talking and good luck. But I kept thinking about him. So it was exhilarating when he emailed the next morning. He said he'd enjoyed talking and we should do it again. I said I'd like that.

Things developed quickly. Within a few nights we were instant messaging for five hours at a time. Politics, family, music, books, England, America – we covered it all. He was four years older than me, a grandfather of five and going through a separation; I was a grandmother of six and divorced. We were kindred spirits, in similar places, and he was terrific company.

We swapped pictures after a week. I didn't care if he looked like Quasimodo. I was already in love.

We didn't talk much by phone – this was before Skype, so transatlantic calls were expensive and neither of us had a webcam. But the first time he did phone me, we just clicked. After that, he started coming home from work on his lunch break and messaging me while eating his sandwich. I'd just be getting up. It was lovely going to bed knowing he would be there in the morning. At one point, his computer broke. He went out the same night to buy a new one. Another time, I slipped two discs and had to stay in bed for weeks, so my daughter would come round and type for me.

Then, four months into our friendship, Phil had a heart attack. I sat at my computer for three days, waiting to hear for him, but nothing. I was so worried. When he came round in hospital, the first thing he did was ask to email me. We agreed to virtually spend New Year's Eve with each other. We saw new year pass in the UK and carried on messaging until it passed in the US. I had invites to go out, but I wanted to spend it with him.

After six months, we started talking about meeting. I had always wanted to visit England. My daughter thought it was a great adventure, but my son said I was crazy. He kept saying, "This isn't real."

We finally met a year to the day after we first started messaging. When I came out of arrivals at Heathrow, Phil grabbed hold of me and said, "So, you do exist then."

We had two weeks in Wales and the West Country, then two weeks at Phil's home. By the time I left, we'd arranged for me to come back.

We kept talking online and I visited England regularly over the next three years. Phil didn't come to New York because he doesn't like flying – although he has since. Then one day, while we were at his house, he proposed. It was quite simple. He asked if I would consider moving over permanently. I'd said yes before he'd finished asking, and we married in 2007. There's not a day goes by when I don't thank fate.

• As told to Colin Drury

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