Who's feeling Frisky?

Because it certainly wasn't me!

Published by: Polly Taylor
Published on: 23rd November 2010

There are many things that can bring two people together. Looks, personality, circumstances… But do you ever wonder if fate has a little role to play in meeting your perfect match?
I’d never been the spontaneous type, I wasn’t one for taking a risk. That was why I was still stuck in a boring job working for a loans’ company, living with my mum…and single for three years after my ex-boyfriend cheated on me.
The only good thing was the £10,000 in savings I had in the bank. Well, I never did anything to spend the money on, did I?
But when my friend Helen offered me a cheap, last-minute ticket to Jamaica, something made me decide to throw caution to the wind for once.
Now, sipping a cocktail and swinging my hips to reggae music in the hotel bar, I had to admit I felt great!
‘Hey, I’m Frisky!’ boomed a tall, muscular man, as he moonwalked towards us. ‘Well, that’s my nickname. You can call me, Kevin,’ he added, winking.
‘Frisky is fine!’ giggled Helen.
It turned out Frisky, 25, was the hotel entertainer. He danced a Michael Jackson tribute act every night, and played games in the pool with the guests during the day. He was great fun.
As we chatted away, it felt like we’d known each other for years. He was sweet, charming…
‘I can’t believe you’re single,’ he purred, leaning in.
‘I’ve found it hard to trust men,’ I admitted. ‘Ever since my ex cheated on me…’
‘Ah, I know how you feel,’ Frisky sighed. ‘I was cheated on, too.’
So we had something in common!
Later that night, as we strolled along the beach together and shared our first kiss in the moonlight, I couldn’t have felt happier.
‘I almost didn’t come on this holiday,’ I whispered, wrapping my arms around Frisky’s waist.
‘It was meant to be,’ he sighed, gazing at me with his brown eyes.
Maybe it was… the first time I left things up to fate, and look what the gods had delivered to me!
But, all too soon, my holiday was over. ‘I’ll call you,’ Frisky promised, as I handed him my phone number.
And despite what they say about holiday romances – he did!
Soon, we were chatting every single day, for hours at a time.
In fact, we were chatting so much, Frisky’s phone credit kept running out!
‘I’ll send you more, I can afford it,’ I said.
His job didn’t pay too well, and the daft thing couldn’t save for toffee. I sent him a new mobile phone, too. Why not? I’d fallen head over heels for him, and he was spending all his money calling me, so it was only right I helped out.
I was desperate to see Frisky again, so I raided my savings and booked another trip – this time with my sister Lindsey, 28, and her boyfriend Jamie, 27.
Everything was perfect.
Frisky got on brilliantly with Lindsey and Jamie. We all had such a laugh together.
Then, one night…
‘Baby, I’ve got something I want to ask you,’ Frisky whispered, as we cuddled up in bed. ‘Will you be my wife?’
‘Oh my God!’ I gasped, as he slipped a gorgeous gold ring on to my finger. ‘Of course I will!’
I knew it was fast, that people would say I was crazy – but I didn’t care. Me and Frisky were meant to be, I was sure of it. What was the point in waiting?
‘I’m getting married!’ I screeched to Lindsey the next morning, flashing her my ring.
‘But you’ve only known him a few months,’ she spluttered. ‘He lives thousands of miles away!’
‘It’s all sorted!’ I giggled, dismissively. ‘We had a big chat about it and Frisky’s going to apply for a visa and move to the UK. He’s not that keen, but he loves me so much, he said he’d do it for me.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet,’ my sister grinned. ‘Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. I’m really happy for you.’
Telling my mum Sue was going to be a different kettle of fish, though…
‘You’re marrying who?!’ she cried when I got home.
‘Er, Frisky…’ I stuttered. ‘Well, his real name is Kevin…’
‘You hardly know this guy,’ Mum sighed. ‘Don’t you think you’re moving too quickly?’
I sat down next to Mum, took her hand in mine.
‘I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life,’ I told her. ‘This isn’t a holiday fling, I love him. And he’s giving up everything for me.’
Mum hugged me. ‘Okay, sweetheart, you’ve got my blessing,’ she sighed.
Saving up for the wedding was tough, though. I’d already spent half my savings. So I took a second job as a carer, stopped spending money on silly things like going out with my mates, and even pawned my gold jewellery to raise some extra cash.
‘I wish I could help out with the money,’ Frisky sighed over the phone.
‘It’s okay. When we’re married, and you’ve got a good job over here, things will balance out.’
It must have been hard for him, letting a woman take the lead. That’s not how they do things over there, but we were both making sacrifices to be together.
In April, we exchanged vows in a small register office in Jamaica, with me wearing a white, strapless gown, and Frisky a lilac shirt and black waistcoat.
Frisky’s pals Frass and Sheldon were witnesses. ‘I’m the happiest man in the world,’ my new hubby breathed, kissing me.
After the ceremony, we drank cocktails on the beach, and filled out his visa application. It was so romantic, just the two of us. I’d told my family we’d have a big party when Frisky got his visa – that was when our real marriage would start.
But it wasn’t long before the honeymoon was over. Back home, my fella became moody and distant on the phone.
Before the wedding, he’d been calling me up to four times a day, but now I’d go days without hearing from him.
At first, I didn’t say anything, and put it down to the stress of waiting for the visa to be approved. After a while, though, I started to question our relationship.
What if Frisky was having second thoughts about moving here, to a different country? It was understandable – he’d have no friends, no family apart from me. It must be scary for him.
Worried, I drew £2,000 out of my savings to visit Frisky in July. ‘I’m going to come this time as well,’ Mum said. ‘It’s about time I met my son-in-law.’
Great! I’d met his family, and knew he’d be as keen to meet the rest of mine. So when me and Mum arrived late at the hotel, I couldn’t wait until morning to introduce them. I wanted to do it now!
‘Come on, let’s go to the bar. Frisky’s working tonight,’ I said to Mum. Ten minutes later, we’d taken our seats and we were watching his Michael Jackson tribute act.
He had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. One woman, with long, dark hair, couldn’t take her eyes off him as he gyrated away to Billie Jean.
She nudged her mate, grinning, and… What was that?! Had Frisky just winked at her?
‘Excuse me,’ I said, turning to her. ‘How do you know my husband?’
‘Your…. your what? I-I don’t…’ she stammered, without meeting my eyes.
What was going on?!
After I’d introduced Frisky to Mum, I confronted him. ‘How do you know her?’ I asked, pointing at the woman.
‘That’s Claire,’ he shrugged. ‘She’s just a guest.’
Funny. I didn’t see him winking at any of the other guests! Still, I decided to let it go. It was Frisky’s job to chat to hotel guests, and he’d always been a bit of a flirt…
The next day, while Frisky was working, I borrowed his phone so Mum could call my nan. But as I was handing it to her, a message popped up on the screen. At the airport now, miss you already…. It was from Claire.
Missing him!? Frisky had assured me nothing was going on!
Storming outside, I spied him playing dominoes with some of the hotel guests. ‘What’s this?’ I fumed, throwing the phone on the table, sending the dominoes flying.
‘What?’ he shrugged, glancing at the screen. ‘We’re friends.’
‘You said she was just a guest!’ I shouted at him. ‘Why is she texting you?’
‘Becky,’ he sighed, placing his hands on my shoulders. ‘You know it’s my job to be friendly to people.’
Suddenly, I felt silly. Maybe I was overreacting…? Frisky was a popular character. Lots of the hotel guests probably wanted to stay in touch with him after they’d returned home.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ I said, handing the phone back to him.
But the damage was done. For the rest of the holiday, Frisky went back to being moody, distant.
Then, after I’d returned home, our relationship suffered another blow. His visa application was rejected. ‘The letter says they don’t believe our marriage is real!’ he gasped over the phone.
I couldn’t believe it! Okay, we’d married quickly – but to think we’d fake our relationship for a visa…!
‘Don’t worry,’ I told him. ‘We’ll apply again.’
This time, I paid £700 to a special company that would help with his application, then another £2,000 to visit Frisky shortly afterwards.
And this time, he was back to his old self. ‘When the visa got rejected, I realised just how much I want to be with you,’ he said, as we filled out the forms in my hotel room.
‘Me, too,’ I told him, pushing the papers into an envelope. ‘I know we’ll be successful this time.’
Whatever had been wrong had disappeared, and as I flew back home, I felt happier than I had in months. Three months later, the visa application was accepted, and it was finally on its way to him in Jamaica!
We’d soon begin our lives properly, as husband and wife.
That night, logging on to the computer to chat to Frisky, a Facebook message popped up. It was my friend Sam who I’d met in the hotel the last time I’d stayed with Frisky. When I opened it, my jaw dropped.
I thought you should know, last week, your husband gave a ring to a woman named Kim Ireland.
What…?! Surely not? I knew my hubby flirted with guests, but this…! I found Kim’s profile, and furiously typed out a message.
How do you know Frisky?
He’s my boyfriend, came the reply. We’ve been together for over two years.
I felt sick to my stomach. Two years! Since before he met me, then! But wait… there was more. I’m sorry, this is not something I’m proud of… Frisky has just told me about you, and he is planning to use the visa you’ve paid for to be with me.
The room started to spin. How could I have been so stupid?
Desperate to prove she was a liar, I scrolled through Kim’s photos on Facebook. But there were loads of her and my husband together. One was dated two weeks after we’d married – and Frisky wasn’t wearing his wedding ring!
Furious, I called him. ‘I know about Kim,’ I spat down the phone.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he replied, calmly.
‘Don’t give me that,’ I sobbed. ‘I’ve seen pictures of you together, she’s told me you’re only with me for a visa!’
Silence. Frisky had clearly run out of excuses. ‘We’re over!’ I shouted, hanging up. Then I collapsed in tears, my dreams of our future together shattered.
How could he do this to me? I’d spent my savings trying to be with him. There I’d been thinking this was fate, was meant to be – and all the while he’d been using me for a visa, so he could shack up with another woman!.
Wait a minute… the visa! It was winging its way to Jamaica at that moment. If he thought I’d let him move to the UK to be with another woman, he could forget it!
I phoned the embassy to explain. ‘Is there any way you can stop the visa?’ I panicked.
‘We’ll try,’ the man said.
The phone rang the next day. ‘We’ve got it!’ said a man from the embassy. ‘We managed to intercept the courier.’
Ha! Months later, they called again to tell me they’d banned Frisky from applying for a UK visa for 10 years, because of what he’d done to me.
I’ve since heard that he also slept with Claire, and another woman called Suzanne, all the while he was married to me, and planning to move in with Kim. He took us all for a ride.
I still believe meeting Frisky was fate. Yes, I definitely met him for a reason – to stop other women from making the same mistake I did.

• When Full House! asked Kevin ‘Frisky’ Morrison, 25, to give his side of the story, he said: ‘I really can’t comment.’
Rebecca Morrison, 30, Plymouth, Devon