When TVNZ presenter Wendy Petrie told her colleague to "get out there" if she wanted to meet someone, she couldn't have predicted how rapidly Jenny-May Clarkson would take her advice, meeting the love of her life that very same night. In this exclusive extract from her new autobiography, Clarkson recalls the details of that evening and the life-changing months that followed.
On Thursday, 5 February 2015, I was at a leaving do for a work friend when I got talking to fellow presenter Wendy Petrie. She asked how things were going and I admitted that I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself, being single at forty.
‘You know, Jenny-May, you just have to put yourself out there,’ Wendy said. ‘I mean, it’s lovely and all that you’re here but, actually, what are you doing here? If you want to meet someone, you have to go out. You need to explore.’
I was inspired. I hustled up a couple of other mates who were also at the farewell and said, ‘We’re getting out of here. Come on.’
We went into town and got a drink at one bar, then I said, ‘Let’s go try that place over there. I’ve never been. Let’s check it out.’
My mates weren’t keen.
‘Yeah, it’ll be good,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’
I dragged them across the road, walked into the bar and immediately saw this man sitting across the other side of the room. He looked up and we made eye contact, and it was instant. I felt an immediate connection.
Anyway, my mates and I went and sat down, right next to this guy but not, like, with him. We were sitting there talking, then one of my friends muttered, ‘J-May, that guy keeps looking at you.’ I was like, ‘What?’ pretending I didn’t know but of course I did. You know, trying to play it cool. And my mate was like, ‘Yeah, he is. Look! He just keeps looking over at you.’
So, being me, I figured we might as well hurry this whole thing up. I turned round with my beer and leant over. ‘Cheers,’ I said.
He looked down at his glass. ‘Oh, shit, it’s empty,’ he said. ‘Well, best you go and fill it up,’ I replied.
His name was Dean and the two of us ended up talking till the sun came up.
And that was it, really. Ten days later (he says nine and he’s probably right), we were engaged. Seven months later, we were married. And by the start of the following year, we were parents.
Much later, Dean confessed that he’d messaged his mum while we were chatting that first night. You won’t believe who I’m with …
When I found out about that, I thought, That’s a bit weird.
Then Dean explained. Three weeks earlier, he’d been at his parents’ house. He and his dad were sitting in the lounge, having a beer, and the sports news was on the TV. His mum was in the kitchen and, overhearing the telly, looked across at Dean. ‘Son,’ she said, ‘that Jenny-May Coffin would be a good catch for you.’
Dean looked at her. ‘Seriously?’ he asked, wondering what planet she was on.
‘Yeah, I read about her in a magazine,’ his mum said. ‘She’s forty, single, gutsy. Perfect for you.’
Dean and his dad just looked at each other. Dean shook his head, thinking, What the heck? Took another sip of his beer and the conversation moved on.
Then, just a couple of days before we met, he’d been to see his counsellor. At the end of their session, she’d said to him, ‘You’re ready now.’
‘For what?’ he asked.
‘Ready to meet your wahine.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yep, she’s gonna walk into the room and you’re gonna know straight away.’
Dean smiled, thinking, Oh, yeah, sure. Just like that, eh.
Anyway, fast-forward to that Thursday night in the bar. He was there for his own farewell from some work he’d been doing and he’d only agreed to go to that bar because it had a dartboard. But then he’d got in there and realised you couldn’t actually play darts – the board was just there for decoration. Which he thought was dumb, so he was about to leave … and then my mates and I walked in.
As soon as he saw me, he says, he was like, ‘Holy crap.’ He felt that connection, too.
‘Bro,’ his mate said, leaning over to him, ‘that’s your girl.’
* * * * *
Probably the biggest thing for me when I met Dean – apart from his handsome good looks, of course – was that one of the very first topics of conversation was his two daughters, Leah and Libby-Jane. He pulled out his wallet to show me photos and the way he talked about them made it so obvious that he absolutely adored them. His princesses, he called them. They were the most important thing in his life, the centre of his world. It was very clear to me that, if he was going to be in any kind of relationship, they were going to be a big part of that. I had to accept him as well as his daughters. That was massive for me. I loved how much he loved his daughters, that they were at the forefront of anything he was doing.
I’d been on my own for a long time by that point but, prior to that, had been in a relationship that was a complete write-off and hurt me deeply. I had thought we were going to have children but it turned out that wasn’t actually in the plan. I was quite scarred from that, so I just set the whole kids thing aside. You know, next. I became quite selfish, just focused on me and what I was doing. If anybody asked me whether I wanted kids, I’d go, ‘I’ve got lots of nieces and nephews. I’m good.’
But then I hit my late-thirties and suddenly went, ‘Oh my god, I don’t have my whakapapa to carry on. I’m gonna be old and lonely. I think I really would like to have children.’
Since Dean and I had both been married before, that first night we got straight to it. Talked about absolutely everything. You know, when you’re older and have already been through the highs and lows of relationships, you can reach a point where you don’t want to mess around trying to figure someone else out, so you’ll be upfront about what you want, where you’re going, what your values are. Better to do that than waste your time. Dean and I were on the same page there. So, when he said, ‘Would you want to have children?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ And he was like, ‘Sweet as. Let’s go.'
Tune into Seven Sharp on Monday when Jenny May takes Daniel Faitaua back to her childhood stomping ground where he meets her mum and her former teacher from Piopio College where her photo still hangs on the wall.
Extracted with permission from Full Circle, A personal story of reconnection, by Jenny-May Clarkson (Harper Collins NZ).
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