Total rejection
The final part in the series of my love stories (failed), this time the ones where I loved, but it never even started.
It’s a job to actually remember these, though I do remember being in love with both Susan at three, when I started school, and Miss Harvey, a teacher there whose hand I held during playtime for about two years!
But from the relationship years, teenage plus, there was the usual collection of girls and women who laughed at me, or metaphorically even spat, and I expect I’ve conveniently allowed them all to leave my mental records. Catherine, at 10, was probably a major landmark. I pestered her on holiday and in between for a couple of years, but being older and taller than me saw me as a little pain in the arse who she wished would go away. But I used her as a reason to totally change my image and within a year had become obsessed with clothes, early 70s hippy fashion, and trying to present myself to get the best advantage with the opposite sex. I was an early starter.
I do remember one of the rare times I met someone and within minutes we felt right together. Her name was Stephanie Elizabeth, though she was always called Twink, and was the babysitter on holiday, a role I took over some years later. I met her near the end of the week when we all went home, and at such a tender age she managed to distract me from trying anything, believing we had a possible future where I’d had no rush. The trouble was she lived in Oxford. We had a long conversation where I tried to convince her the distance wouldn’t stop everything happening as if I’d been local. At that age, 14, I was already travelling all over the country exploring by bus and train, and Oxford was a place I knew fairly well and was easy to get to. She said to phone her when I got home and she’d decide. Amazingly the week later I was in Oxford with friends (I moved there for a year later on), and called her, even hoping she’d be available, and she more or less told me to fuck off.
Meanwhile our friends on holiday had a daughter who was only about 8 at the time and I totally ignored. Some years later they used to spend a lot of time with us, and I got on very well with her. As she reached about 20 I realised she was potentially just right in every way and after being a friend for about 20 years, made the suicidal step of asking her out. Same result as previous. No surprise.
Of course there was the usual flood of girls at school (except the three years I spent at a boy’s school), but nothing much happened with any of them, and the few I did see once or twice weren’t up to any more.
When I was dropped a year in my degree, I saw a woman who after looking at her in a different way, realised she had a unique charm despite quite an unusual appearance. Her personality though was pretty tough and aggressive, and I was so fucking shy around her that was the final barrier to getting to know her. But for two years I went to college willingly just to see her. She often wore short skirts and no tights, and in the small seminar rooms I could often have a solid hour staring right up it, I’m sad to admit. After graduation I pestered her for weeks with no result, and even the photos I took of her at a party didn’t come out. Years later a mutual acquaintance told me (despite her showing a little interest in another male student though never being seen with one) she was a lesbian. She’s probably sitting in her flat in Islington in the arms of a butch 50 year old dominatrix smoking a cigar as I write, and at least probably not married. I haven’t actually heard from her for over 15 years, but I could be close.
There was also a string of Sophies, two on holiday and one at school. After about 5-6 Catherines, with even more with no results, Sophies and Fionas were about equal second, all failures. Sophie one was stand-offish, went out with a hooligan from up the road to where I live now despite literally being a part of the aristocracy, and ended up as a shaven-headed Buddhist nun. Sophie two was a lot younger from me and ran away every time I went near her for maybe ten years. Sophie three was at school, became a friend till I wanted more, and reacted much like the others after that.
Finally, one I didn’t mention in the previous ‘partial successes’ (partly as it just came to me and partly as the love came long after the event) was Kate. She was in the class above Sophie, and the only girl I kissed there in nearly two years. That was enough to put her off apparently and I spent the rest of my short stay there chasing a vast selection of others with no results whatsoever (except my friend’s girlfriend who looked like a witch, who offered me ‘a go’ after him one night on school camp. I rarely turn things down but I have my limits).
That was the only school with regular reunions, and after nearly 20 years not seeing Kate, posted a message on the school list for her whereabouts. Though I’d heard her family had moved to America I still wanted to hear from her. I realised from all the girls there, there were maybe three top ones, and she was the one with the nicest personality, plus was the only one who liked me, even if for a couple of days. I got an email back almost immediately. She was in America, married, divorced at least once, and with someone else. She was just as nice, come out of her shell as she used to be very quiet, and sent a photo where she looked just the same. No fucking use to me there though…
It’s a job to actually remember these, though I do remember being in love with both Susan at three, when I started school, and Miss Harvey, a teacher there whose hand I held during playtime for about two years!
But from the relationship years, teenage plus, there was the usual collection of girls and women who laughed at me, or metaphorically even spat, and I expect I’ve conveniently allowed them all to leave my mental records. Catherine, at 10, was probably a major landmark. I pestered her on holiday and in between for a couple of years, but being older and taller than me saw me as a little pain in the arse who she wished would go away. But I used her as a reason to totally change my image and within a year had become obsessed with clothes, early 70s hippy fashion, and trying to present myself to get the best advantage with the opposite sex. I was an early starter.
I do remember one of the rare times I met someone and within minutes we felt right together. Her name was Stephanie Elizabeth, though she was always called Twink, and was the babysitter on holiday, a role I took over some years later. I met her near the end of the week when we all went home, and at such a tender age she managed to distract me from trying anything, believing we had a possible future where I’d had no rush. The trouble was she lived in Oxford. We had a long conversation where I tried to convince her the distance wouldn’t stop everything happening as if I’d been local. At that age, 14, I was already travelling all over the country exploring by bus and train, and Oxford was a place I knew fairly well and was easy to get to. She said to phone her when I got home and she’d decide. Amazingly the week later I was in Oxford with friends (I moved there for a year later on), and called her, even hoping she’d be available, and she more or less told me to fuck off.
Meanwhile our friends on holiday had a daughter who was only about 8 at the time and I totally ignored. Some years later they used to spend a lot of time with us, and I got on very well with her. As she reached about 20 I realised she was potentially just right in every way and after being a friend for about 20 years, made the suicidal step of asking her out. Same result as previous. No surprise.
Of course there was the usual flood of girls at school (except the three years I spent at a boy’s school), but nothing much happened with any of them, and the few I did see once or twice weren’t up to any more.
When I was dropped a year in my degree, I saw a woman who after looking at her in a different way, realised she had a unique charm despite quite an unusual appearance. Her personality though was pretty tough and aggressive, and I was so fucking shy around her that was the final barrier to getting to know her. But for two years I went to college willingly just to see her. She often wore short skirts and no tights, and in the small seminar rooms I could often have a solid hour staring right up it, I’m sad to admit. After graduation I pestered her for weeks with no result, and even the photos I took of her at a party didn’t come out. Years later a mutual acquaintance told me (despite her showing a little interest in another male student though never being seen with one) she was a lesbian. She’s probably sitting in her flat in Islington in the arms of a butch 50 year old dominatrix smoking a cigar as I write, and at least probably not married. I haven’t actually heard from her for over 15 years, but I could be close.
There was also a string of Sophies, two on holiday and one at school. After about 5-6 Catherines, with even more with no results, Sophies and Fionas were about equal second, all failures. Sophie one was stand-offish, went out with a hooligan from up the road to where I live now despite literally being a part of the aristocracy, and ended up as a shaven-headed Buddhist nun. Sophie two was a lot younger from me and ran away every time I went near her for maybe ten years. Sophie three was at school, became a friend till I wanted more, and reacted much like the others after that.
Finally, one I didn’t mention in the previous ‘partial successes’ (partly as it just came to me and partly as the love came long after the event) was Kate. She was in the class above Sophie, and the only girl I kissed there in nearly two years. That was enough to put her off apparently and I spent the rest of my short stay there chasing a vast selection of others with no results whatsoever (except my friend’s girlfriend who looked like a witch, who offered me ‘a go’ after him one night on school camp. I rarely turn things down but I have my limits).
That was the only school with regular reunions, and after nearly 20 years not seeing Kate, posted a message on the school list for her whereabouts. Though I’d heard her family had moved to America I still wanted to hear from her. I realised from all the girls there, there were maybe three top ones, and she was the one with the nicest personality, plus was the only one who liked me, even if for a couple of days. I got an email back almost immediately. She was in America, married, divorced at least once, and with someone else. She was just as nice, come out of her shell as she used to be very quiet, and sent a photo where she looked just the same. No fucking use to me there though…
posted by David | 10:50 pm
