Excerpts from various unfinished, finished, published and unpublished pieces of fiction and other literary efforts.
Love not Lust – 1980
When you’re just starting out in life, getting to know the people around you is one of the hardest lessons we all have to learn. Is what you see for real or are they are hiding behind a fake persona? Are they going to break your heart? Sometimes it is difficult to tell.
I don’t think I have changed that much during life’s roller coaster ride. What you see is what you get, but I have never had anything to hide. Or maybe it’s something to do with my Zodiac sign 😉 Maybe wearing your heart on your sleeve is not such a great idea, because it gets broken too often.
People are uncannily adept at hiding things, when faced with a crisis or a dilemma. Some people withdraw, whilst others exude blatant braggadocio, in order to blot out a problem. But, there is always a reason for most types of irrational behaviour in all kinds of people.
Someone I knew during my teenage years was loud, rude and unpopular with everybody. If he hit upon a nerve during a conversation, he would home in on it. His voice would become louder, more aggressive, teasing and taunting especially if he had an audience; particularly off-putting for a teenager. If I saw him in the street, I would run in the opposite direction. Much later I found out that his only child had died when she was four.
Some people effortlessly manage to hide their double lives with astonishing ease. One of my closest friends married at 18. About four years later her husband took me to one side at a party, extolling the virtues of love and marriage and how special their two children were. 6 months later I was appalled to hear that he had walked out on his family to set up home with the mistress he’d been having an affair with for ten years.
How do you do that? How do you keep up the pretence?
During the latter part of my impressionable teenage years, I was going out with someone who was working away from home. He would come back every weekend and spend all his time with me. I was in love for the very first time.
It was love, not lust, because I missed him every second we were apart. Counting the days and hours until he returned every weekend. I spent a year in that dreamy lovesick state of mind, until I found out from a friend that the love of my life was living with someone else during the week.
How naive was I? Too love-struck see through the veil of deceit.
A few years later I finally managed to pick myself up from being so painfully let down, when I fell for a 6’3′ rugby player with long, curly blond hair and robust thighs.
I flirted with him outrageously for weeks until he asked me out which was when he plucked up the courage to tell me he had been engaged for 3 years and didn’t know how to break it off. I then became a shoulder for him to cry on.
Sadly, my unconditional counselling efforts backfired on me when he married his finance and I escaped to the Channel Islands.