scribbles tagged ‘1998’

no compromise

Tuesday, November 30th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

but I love you

Sceptically I watch your eyes brimming with tears, marvelling at your apparant ability to turn the waterworks on when it suits you. Remembering the other times I’ve seen you cry, now seeing these tears with a new lens. In ths moment I am the cold person. Respecting your request not to touch you, I watch you cry, listen to your implores

you are the only girl I will ever love, I will love you for ever, you will still be as beautiful when you’re in your 90’s wearing a silly hat and quirky clothes. There is no-one else for me, please don’t leave me

a sailboat passesIn my arrogance I find your words believable, if a little confusing.  A day earlier and I would have accepted your words at face value, thrown my arms round your neck and showered you with kisses.

Today I wonder if you have mistaken loving me with your ability to manipulate me to suit your wonts. Is what you really love, having a quirky trainable pet? Could my role in your life be replaced by a chow chow? I try not to smile at the thought of you parading a chow chow at your business bankers social events. Smiling at inappropriate times has occassionally gotten me into trouble. Maybe there is a practical deal we can do that will work for both of us

I want the freedom to be happy, to love unselfconsciously with the whole of my being. If I am free to find a lover then I could remain living with you as a friend

The offer was not acceptable, a discrete affair was not an option. Even with your face glazed in brine you remain an uncompromising negotiator. Left with the choice of

  • staying in celebacy to avoid your tears and align with your concept of love, or
  • leave and risk finding both happiness and a recognisable expression of love

Still a suprisingly difficult decision, again I chose the risk of happiness over the certainty of your controlling, cold, love

Previous paragraphs in this story:
  1. The begining of the end
  2. Send in the helicopters
  3. The usual please
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send in the helicopters

Thursday, November 18th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

continuation of: the beginning of the end
Cars splash in the puddlesThe path wasn’t wide-enough for the two of us to walk, not-touching, side by side. You strode down the middle of the path, looking straight ahead. Six inches to your left, our legs and strides the same length, I walked uncertainly on the grass verge. Watching my feet incase a dip or bump conspired with you to make me fall. You didn’t invite me onto the pavement or slow your pace to ease my stumbling. The tone of your walk clearly drawn to include no courtesy to me. The frosty grass crunched beneath my feet and headlights temporarily blinded me as we walked the mile in silence.

helicopter ride off LundyLike pulling a rug from under me, your few words had irrecovably changed memories from loving moments to contrived deceptions. Something inside me died. Years earlier we’d insured our escape from Lundy island for £5 incase the boat couldn’t land in a storm. A storm brewed, the helicopter rescued us. Now the magic rug had been pulled I wanted something more real, that helicopter, NOW. To be whirled away from the impending storm.

By the time we arrived at the pub, I understood that I had to leave you. I didn’t know when or how, but I knew it would happen. Perhaps that’s what you wanted. In employment contexts I believe they call it constructed dismissal:

  1. Your employer has committed a serious breach of contract
  2. You felt forced to leave because of that breach
  3. You have not done anything to suggest that you have accepted their breach or a change in employment conditions
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the beginning of the end

Thursday, November 4th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

The frost was already forming as we left our warm home, heading for an equally warm evening in our local pub. I love autumn, I loved him, the fleece hat I’d given him last christmas pulled over his ears and his hands deep in the pockets of an oversized down jacket that hid his slight frame. I smiled and smoothly slipped my gloved hand through the crook of his elbow

Don’t


Don’t what?

Touch me


I don’t understand

I don’t like being touched


There was a long silence as we walked along the icy pathway and the implications of his words painfully began to blossom

Is this a new thing or have you always felt like this?

I’ve always felt like this

With these few words he deliberately, irrevocably destroyed an illusion he’d previously carefully constructed.  Now he’d knowingly set us on different pathways. He was colder than the evening, colder than the ice. In my pain I lashed out with a warm, tearful broken whisper

you did a good job of faking it for 4 years


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Do you have an opinion?

Monday, October 4th, 2010 | tags: ,  |

At a time when I was beginning to question my value as an individual, Garbage, fronted by Shirley Manson, came racing to the rescue. Reminding me that I could push it and I had opinions. Liking Garbage was just one of my opinions. I saw them play live that autumn. Outstanding.

Including a tribute to the Beach boys ‘Don’t worry baby’  this video won buckets of awards…

Garbage sang Push it (1998)

With lyrics as a tribute to one of Shirley Manson’s hero’s, Chrissie Hynde’s, singing on the Pretender’s ‘talk of the town’, this video is a sci fi style arial dogfight fight…

Garbage sang Special (1998)

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