Your LIFE: I FELL FOR TURKISH LOVE RAT .. TWICE!
CLARE's heart was broken by a Turkish love rat but, 10 years later, he came back. Could she risk giving him a second chance? Clare, 30, tells her story...
As we got off the coach, me and my mum Betty gasped. "Oh it's beautiful," I said, looking around at the Turkish resort of Marmaris. The mountains, the blue sea... and our hotel was gorgeous too.
Suddenly, a man appeared to take my luggage. "Hello Cockney!" he said in perfect English.
I giggled. It looked like the staff weren't too bad either!
Later that night we went to the hotel bar and spotted the man who'd carried my luggage.
He was dark, handsome and cheeky. "I'm Vedat," he said. "But everyone calls me Mozzy - because I'm like a mosquito!"
Me and Mum couldn't help laughing. And after a couple of days I could see why he got his nickname - he was always buzzing round me.
But I liked it. The next day I was walking through reception to my room.
"Clare," Mozzy called out. I turned to speak to him, and that's when he moved in for the kill.
He kissed me right there and my legs turned to jelly.
I was 17 years old, being kissed by the handsome Turkish barman.
When I went back to Mum on the sunlounger, she guessed straight away but told me to have fun. "What's the harm in a holiday romance?" she said. So that's what I did.
I spent days around the pool, flir ting with Mozzy, then 20. After he'd finished at the bar, we'd go out, just the two of us - and soon we were in bed together.
By the second week we were inseparable. I was devastated to be going home. "You will come back, won't you?" he asked as I nodded. Secretly, I was already planning my next trip.
When I got back home to Maidstone, Kent, I went straight to the travel agent's and six weeks later I was back in Turkey.
We spent another blissful week together and by the end of it I was in love. "Go for it!"
Mum said. "Why not? Mozzy's a nice guy." She was right - he was different to the guys back in England. Vedat was funny, caring and so sexy.
When I got home we phoned each other most days, desperate to be together. I decided to go back in September to celebrate my 18th birthday.
Mum booked to come too, along with some other friends.
I still tried to call Mozzy most days but sometimes it was tricky to get hold of him. I'd ring but the girl on reception could be difficult.
"He's busy," she'd say, slamming down the phone. But as we boarded another flight to Turkey, I was so excited. Mozzy had told me he'd planned my 18th birthday party around the pool. When I got there, Mozzy came out to carry my luggage, but something was different.
He tensed, seemed cold but he insisted nothing was wrong. But he was distant for the whole week. And I noticed the hotel receptionist, Saliye, glaring at me.
Finally, I'd had enough and confided in another member of staff, who looked at me guiltily and said: "Mozzy's engaged to Saliye. It happened a few weeks ago."
What? How could he possibly be engaged? We were a couple?
I stormed over to Mozzy and confronted him but all he did was look down at the floor. Tears filled my eyes - how could he do this?
I ran back to my room sobbing.
The next few days were awful. I'd lie on my sunbed, see the two of them together and kick myself for being such a fool.
Then on my 18th birthday, we decided to go out to celebrate. But when we went to the hotel bar, it was decorated with banners and balloons. "Happy birthday," Mozzy said.
Mum suggested staying at the hotel for a few drinks before we went out and I agreed. Why should my 18th birthday be ruined by him? So we sat there, and had a giggle.
Only then Saliye arrived and she started on me. "Mozzy's mine!" she shouted. "Not yours." All the anger I'd felt for the past few days came to the surface and I slapped her.
I'd had enough. "Come on, Mum," I said. I wasn't going to let those two ruin my birthday. So we went out. I was chatted up by loads of men and I loved it, especially when Mozzy arrived in one bar and saw. I was heartbroken but seething with anger and betrayal too.
A few days later, it was time to go home and for once I was glad to be leaving. I didn't hear from Mozzy again.
As months and then years went by, I imagined him married to Saliye. Mozzy had been my first love - the one you never forget. Then, last June, I got a call from my friend Penny. She was a holiday rep out in Marmaris. "I've bumped into a man called Mozzy," she said. "He wants your phone number."
I couldn't believe it. But I said she could give him my number, mostly out of curiosity. He called me later that day. "Hi," he said, nervously. Slowly we started talking.
My old feelings were starting to come back so, trying to spare myself more heartache, I asked him how Saliye was.
He paused. "We're divorced." They had a son but their relationship hadn't worked out and they'd split a few years before.
He said he'd asked about me after I'd returned home but someone had told him I was engaged too. He said he'd thought I was happy and had gone on to marry Saliye.
I said I'd never been engaged and was single. He then started calling four times a day.
Finally, in September, I agreed to go out to see him. He'd put on a bit of weight, but he was still my Mozzy.
I went back in October, and again in November. Then Mozzy said "Move out here. Be my wife."
I desperately wanted to but I couldn't help voicing my doubts. I've been there, done that. "It's you I want," he insisted.
So in January I moved out to Turkey and in April we got engaged and are planning to get married next year. It took 10 years for Mozzy to realise what I knew all along - that I'm the girl for him!'
What? How could he possibly be engaged? We were a couple
NOW SECOND CHANCE: Clare with Mozzy 10 years ago, right, and now, above; THEN; MISTAKE: Mozzy on his wedding day with Saliye
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|Publication:||The Mirror (London, England)|
|Date:||Aug 10, 2007|
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