On 12 December 2010, following press reports linking her romantically with Australian cricketer Shane Warne, Hurley announced via her Twitter account that she and her husband Arun had separated several months earlier. Hurley filed for divorce on 2 April 2011, citing Nayar's "unreasonable behaviour" as the cause.The divorce was granted on 15 June 2011
The poor kid. It all started on an October night -A Friday I believe in 2009. I had made my way up to the fabled Pump Room of the Ambassador East Hotel. It was about 4:30 PM as I recall - too early for the Commodore Max Weismann and his posse of Steve, Jesse, Yancie, and other worthies, Angel was behind the bar. Angel fixed me a tall soda and lime and asked if I wanted the dried spicy Wasabi pea and cracker mix. " Nix, on that, Angel. I'm waiting for my Angel and she's running late." I dug into my strides for my roll and pinched out a couple of Hamiltons and two Jacksons. Angel, held up his palm, " The Lady on the other side asked me to keep you from getting thirsty."
No sooner had Angel placed my beverage in front of me than a young girl in her early forties slinked onto the stool next to mine. She was good-looking as most girls go, but I got eyes only for one at a time and mine have been locked on only one for three years. I might have mentioned her here from time to time, but she is a private type and not given to the big public stage, if you get me.
The same can not be said for my new friend. We talked for a good hour or so and then I had to beat it and meet the one I am roped to around the heart.
I liked the kid well enough, but nixed her overtures. I had listened to her man troubles and loneliness tales. I left her softly . . . with these words, " Kiddo, only suckers beef."
I tucked a sawbuck under my glass and slide a couple of double sawbucks to Angel on the quiet, "Angel, get the kid a few, but don't let her drive. We'll be back for the Andrew Distel show later. Ask, Max to see that she don't make trouble, or let Maynard take advantage of her, Okay?" Angel is a pro's pro.
I thought that was it. Not at all. I get these as regular as Patrick Cox IRS* commercials on cable TV.
Did you lose my number? Did we even exchange numbers? I know we don’t know each other that well, yet we were intimate when I stayed in Chicago in 2009. Was that just a casual thing for you? If so I will take the hint and assume that you don’t want to take this further. If not, you know how to find me by looking me up. This requires you to remember my last name. If you have already forgotten my last name, then perhaps you shouldn’t be calling me . . . Dear God, that you were. You didn't seem cruel. You were charm itself. Perhaps it was my foolish heart, or the scent of Club Man that you wore. I am devastated think of you, Otherwise, I really would look forward to seeing you again.
My Dearest Pat,
I am so distraught that we can’t ever be together. I wish you could wrap me in your arms and tell me it will all be ok but I know you can’t. I will make this brief because I know it hurts you to see me this way.
Even though you have left me for that singer, I will always love you anyway. I want to let you know that if your woman ever hurts you in any way, that I will be here to embrace you with my unconditional love.
Please continue to love me too even though fate has split us apart! I should not have allowed her to have you, May you be blessed and cradled in the arms of those who love you forever. May you recognize that true love is letting go as I have done…
I love you…
Dear Mr. Hickey,
Hey, what’s up? YOu never call or write; hope you are ok. I only keep track of your doings on this silly blog of yours.
I'm sorry. It is not silly. It is my only connection to you. I replay our few hours in the Pump Room every day. Until you went to meet her.
Where did you go? I was thinking about you today, hoping you’d call or email. Silly me, I guess I am under the delusion that the more I think of you, the more inclined you will be to call, email or stop by for a visit.
Please drop me a note to let me know that you are still interested in continuing this spark in my heart, so I know what to expect. Sorry to sound so disappointed, but you have trained me to think of contact from you as being the highlight of my day. Now I feel like I have nothing to look forward to . . . only on this blog more fool me. You delete my notes and why?
Sorry, all of this is making me a little mad, not only at you for being so silent, but also at myself, for loving you when you may not be interested.
I miss you,
Dear Master and Commander of My Heart, My Soul and All that surrounds it,
I am writing you because I realized that that I didn’t say everything I needed to last.
It’s funny that you should reject me that particular day, because that day, I was feeling that we had never been closer. I guess that was a beautiful delusion.
To tell you the truth, I know you were a bit put off by my request to . . .well, you know. In fact, I was shocked that my overture was met with such rigid moral rectitude.
I am wondering why you would go to all the effort of making me feel so loved and emotionally secure by commiserating with my loneliness and lack of centered self-respect and then pull the rug out from all that I believe by rejecting my suggestion.
Maybe this is all my fault and along I have been interpreting your behavior as a green light to go forward. If so I apologize. If that is true, then why did you encourage me by taking hands in your strong but gentle grip and beaming those understanding and sexy earth-tone eyes of yours. It is frightening me to think that you could be so manipulative as to play with my feelings like that, or that my own intuition about you is so misguided.
All I can think is that you have been giving mixed messages. You must be either very confused or afraid . . . or as posted some time ago, cruel. Why have you been giving me mixed messages? I need to know, because I still love you.
Hey Mr. Smoothe Creme,
Please do me a favor and read all of this letter and think about what it says. I hope what has happened doesn’t mean that we have broken up. I hope we haven’t. It’s pretty lonely around here without you.
I have pretending these last three years, you blackguard.
I understand why you have made the choices you have. I understand that your little singer friend ( I followed her on day this past week, during a stay over at that dredful Peninsula) is the best thing for you. Still you need to know that even though you are far away, I need to think of you and pretend you are here every single moment of the day.
There is something I have told you. I really love you. I can’t sleep without knowing for sure that we still have the future. Yet I am sleeping more to avoid knowing that you are far away. This is the only way I can still pretend that you are still with me in person.
I really did believe from the first time that had we gotten together at that I would not wasted my time with footballers, heirs and Euro-trash royalty and that we would always be together. Please tell me I wasn’t wrong. Please tell me that the love I saw in your eyes was not my imagination.
Can we do this long distance? Let me know or set me free, even though it would break my heart.
Sweetheart, I'd like to find a razor that don't get dull.
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