I don’t know how much coverage these guys got in the US and the rest of the world, but here in Britain, they were never out of the press.
Lembit Öpik is a British Liberal Democrat politician of Estonian descent. He is currently the Member of Parliament for the constituency of Montgomeryshire in Wales.
Gabriela Irimia is one half of the twin sister pop group “The Cheeky Girls”. They are from Cluj-Napoca in Transylvania, Romania, but based in Britain. Their songs were questionable, but they were always guaranteed an audience of male fans, being twin Eastern European sisters that look like this:
Lembit and Gabriela struck up an unlikely relationship. Being both of Eastern European descent, one would imagine they had a better chance of pulling off a relationship with a seventeen year age gap better than the average WM/FSUW couple. This is they together:
However, as with any such relationship, the Russian Women Coach says check out the visual credibility. Not ideal is it? I will refrain from further comment about that, as I am a resident of Estonia (and Lembit is often in Estonia), and I don’t want him pouring a bottle of wine over my head in Must Lammas do I? (Its a fave politicians hang out in Estonia – nice Lamb and over-priced Georgian wines BTW!)
Anyway, the Mail on Sunday is a popular English newspaper, and this Sunday last, ol’ Lembit poured his heart out at the demise of his relationship with afore mentioned Smokinhotkova. I mention and serialize it here, not only because it is a good read, and content that may not be in the US mainstream, but because if one reads between the lines, aspects of his tale could be any tale from any guy in the RUAdventures “Train Wreck Room” on RUA. Perhaps Lembit should have stopped by there for some advice. Seriously though, Lembit does come across in his writing as a very nice guy, I think he writes well and he is a brave bloke to bare his soul in such a way as a public figure.
See what you think. The below is taken from that article and concluding with a link to the remainder for copyright reasons.
‘I was completely in love with her… but my heart was broken’: Lembit Opik tells of his romance with a Cheeky girl
The Geeky Boy and the Cheeky Girl – to many Lembit Opik’s romance with Gabriela Irimia was something of a joke. In this touching two-part series, he tells for the first time of the deep feelings he had – and how his life was shattered when she left.
The year 2008 was the worst year of my adult life. One former fiancée wrote a book about me. The other told me, through a newspaper headline, that she’d lost our baby.
My best friend died without warning. And to round it off, I nearly died myself. But somewhere on a journey in which I lost my heart, I found my soul. It is this that has motivated me to write. Until now, I have seen no purpose in responding to the mountain of discussion on these matters.
However, I have started on a new and remarkable journey in my life. I sense it may be instructive, even encouraging, to others to relate a year of crises and solitude, leading ultimately to a kind of epiphany that I’m still trying to interpret.
The year had started brilliantly. In January I was on top of the world. Work was good, I felt physically great and people were actually being nice to me.
Cheeky Gabriela was the love of my life. We’d met accidentally in 2006, during an infinitely long evening in a West London studio after a channel Five programme called The All Star Talent show.
The Cheeky Girls and I were among celebrities who revealed a secret talent to three judges. I played harmonica, which I’ve done for 20 years now, and the Cheeky Girls performed a ballet. I think it was part of Swan Lake. Neither of us won; I came third out of six in my heat and they came fourth out of six in theirs. All the same, it was a lot of fun to take part.
Our very first meeting was at the final ‘wrap’ party. I had never seen either of the girls before but, of course, I knew of them. Funnily enough, it was Monica who first came over and talked to me at the bar. Then she drifted off to talk to some other people and some time later Gabriela approached. They looked incredibly similar and I was worried I’d offend them by mixing them up. They were dressed differently but for a while I wasn’t sure who was who.
I really enjoyed talking to Gabriela. The conversation was lively and varied. She wanted to learn more about my job as an MP, she talked about her life growing up in Romania and being a pop singer. I was impressed by her range and depth. She was clearly well educated and intelligent. I also found her extremely attractive and was flattered that she wanted to spend so much time chatting with me.
It had been an interesting first meeting and I was intrigued by her. I gave her my telephone number but I had no expectation that she would call me. To my surprise, she did. We chatted over the phone and she expressed an interest in science and in museums. I’m very interested in science myself – my father was a physicist and my grandfather an astronomer. I have a passion for both, so it seemed natural to offer to take her to the Science Museum in London.
Two weeks after our initial meeting we went to see the Space and Aviation exhibition at the museum. On reflection, I can see it’s quite an odd place to take a lady I hardly knew on what amounted to a first date. I suppose I wasn’t thinking about it in that way. I just thought she’d be interested – and evidently she was.
Every few minutes she had to stop and sign autographs because people recognised her. She was gracious and I didn’t mind. I knew my place. She was the glamorous one, not me. Afterwards we had a drink in the Westminster Arms pub – a popular watering hole for politicians because you can hear the division bell from there – as I was going back to the Commons to work.
Frankly, I had no expectation of anything romantic happening between us, although I must admit that I was secretly hopeful. When, two months later, we became more than just friends, cynics derided our alliance. To them it just had to be a stunt, after all I was 41 and she was 24. They cited my quirky reputation and wonky face as evidence against me, although, surprisingly, I received nothing but support from my fellow MPs. People in Parliament were curious and there was some gentle teasing but no one was offensive or malicious.
And Gabi? Of course there were people who felt she was clearly too attractive and sexy to be smart. But smart she was, and more intelligent than those who put her down. Indeed, she’s rather accomplished. She taught me a lot about Romanian history and politics. She could talk knowledgeably about so many subjects – including classical ballet, dance, philosophy and her experience growing up under the politics of Soviet Eastern Europe. She is also a skilled chess player and a very witty lady.
Gabi was different to the kind of women I had dated previously. She was flamboyant. People had to take her on her own terms. She never toned down her dressing style, make-up or anything. I had no problem with any of that, or even the publicity hype that went with her. All that mattered was that she made me feel whole. To me, that was the definition of loving someone and, to be frank, I was completely in love.
She was living with her sister, mother and stepfather in East Sussex. We met up as often as our work allowed. I’ve had a private pilot’s licence since 1988 and own a quarter share in a four-seater plane. So sometimes I would fly to Lydd Airport in Kent to pick her up and then travel on to Wales for the weekend. It cut a six-hour journey to 90 minutes. She loved flying so much that I bought her some lessons. She was a natural.
We both enjoyed travelling and went on holiday to various European countries, including Estonia. We also made a couple of trips to Romania. I felt very drawn to her. She fitted into my world without a hitch and was very supportive of my work. She attended some constituency events, came to listen to me in the Commons and attended a couple of Lib Dem dinners. We had a very deep interaction. I felt lifted when with her and she was strong enough to stand up to me.
Of course, the Press went wild. It was a perfect cliche: ‘The Geeky Boy and his Cheeky Girl.’ Everyone had an opinion and I was overwhelmed by the attention. Inside that media maelstrom we created our private space – inspirational and hopeful. Their negative assumptions versus our positive connection was an almost monochrome contrast.
A year later, even the most cynical had to revise their view…………..
The rest of the article can be read here: Lembit Opik’s article in The Mail on Sunday.