Pooh

I want to write each of their stories, their stories from my perspective, but as time passes there seems less to say, the things which felt so powerful and indelible at the time don’t even seem worth the effort of typing.
A relationship which lasted 4 years has left me with only a few memories.

Walking along the cliff top in West Wales, bleak and beautiful. Swimming in the sea in St Lucia, the colour of the sea almost emerald, barely speaking to anyone else for 10 days, but when I did, his bad mood. The holiday starting with us not speaking due to an argument 2 weeks earlier. We had decided to still go on the holiday, I believed I could turn up at the airport and would be able to fake happiness. I couldn’t. I don’t remember the flight being tense although I can only assume it was. I do remember the first day, breakfast at separate times, lunch at separate times, a day spent apart. By the following morning the atmosphere was unbearable, somehow we both started to cry, the atmosphere broke and the holiday was one of the best I have had. Swimming in the afternoon rain, afternoon tea and banana cake, cocktails way too early in the day, Thirtysomething being repeated on the TV

Our first trip to Iceland was cold and beautiful, we saw the sights, but he preferred to spend the evening watching porn on the hotel TV, far more liberated than the catholic countries we normally visited. He was easy to be with, easy to talk with. He was tall, his arms surrounded me, the sex was conventionally experimental, food, dressing up, nothing risky, and I can only assume satisfying but I can’t really remember.

He once tried to run me off the M4 , playing cat and mouse at 90mph from Newport to Swindon, I was shaken. On another occasion he pinned me down and held his fist to my face, he didn’t hurt me. On another he turned up at my flat , we argued, he left and took my door keys with him, he had been menacing and threatening,I phoned him, he just laughed, I didn’t know what to do, I called the police, while I was on the phone he came back to my flat and sat laughing at my fear of him, he didn’t believe I was on the phone to the police, I think he cut me off, they called back, he left, leaving the keys.

We later regained our friendship. We went on holidays as friends, he came on holiday with me when my unreliable boyfriend was supposed to be there. On occasions he became angry and jealous and bitter, but despite this has been a good friend.
I am attracted to intensity, rightly or wrongly I accept there are two sides to that coin.

Almost everything I recall about our relationship seems to be cloaked in feelings of isolation, all the memories are of being together alone

Satisfaction with T-i-g-g-e-r

It truly was the most satisfying of my relationships. He was not the ‘soul mate ‘ I was later to find but he gave me the most complete relationship I have experienced.

He was intelligent, passionate, funny, romantic, sociable, caring, loving,
creative, practical, spontaneous. So why did I stop loving him? It isn’t a quick or easy answer to find but I think it was because I thought he was weak, and maybe that isn’t a fair accusation either. He went through redundancy after 20 years service, a marriage split up after 12 years marriage and being separated from his children all within a year (I think) and he seemed to be getting through it ok, but in hindsight I think it broke him

I remember the first recognisable point that I had fallen out of love with him, we were in a car, in a country park I think, it was a nice day, we were going to have sex and I realised I didn’t fancy him anymore and I really don’t know why . If I had to put my finger on it …..no pun intended …and he did like puns, it was because he had let me down so many times by not having the courage of his convictions, I decided he was weak, I always wanted someone to believe in. I think this is a tough request of anyone, but I want it just the same, and I realised I couldn’t believe in him.

It is a shame because he has left me with so many good memories, a boxing kangaroo at Colchester Zoo, the motor boat on a crisp February morning, the spontaneous night in a hotel, doing jigsaws, walking in the peak district, picnics by open fires, picnics in the park, Malta, the canal weekend,
his handiwork which turned my flat into a home, poetry, the many cards and messages, his wit. But also his breakdown, his weaknesses, his betrayals.
I have to ask myself if I am seeking perfection, and I am not sure. Is there really a person I can believe in, who will say what he means and mean what he says. I really don’t know, I haven’t found him yet

Simply a man

Possibly the most frustrating ….definitely the most frustrating of all the relationships to date. When I first saw him, it was a thunderbolt moment, I didn’t realise they were real, I see people on TV who say they experienced the same thing. When I saw him there was genuinely a surge of power through me, no that doesn’t really reflect how it was, it was like a shock, it was as if all that were to come had been compressed together and surged through my body in a few moments.

I am not a visual person, so appearance is not something I am generally aware of. I can’t attribute the initial feeling to the things I only noticed later when they were brought to my attention by friends, or I pondered as we grew closer. His broad shoulders, slim waist, strong forearms, a face with the definition of a Gladiator, eyes as cool as a lion, with the look of wounded animal.

He had simple, no pretence charm, not a great conversationalist, when he spoke of his past he had an energy and enthusiasm I saw at no other time. It felt as if he was waiting to live again but wasn’t sure if he deserved it. He knew he was a ‘good man’ but the scope of the role had been fairly narrow and fortunately clear. A good father, a loyal husband, a hard worker, aloof enough to earn respect, social enough to be part of the group.

It was never blissful, or romantic it was only simple, simple pleasure.

Fun

I am, by my own, and probably others declaration not known for being ‘fun’ . I take too much pleasure in thinking about things for them to pass me by in a frivolous manner . That hasn’t stopped my friends and lovers from making me smile. I like the things that follow because they are not frequent events and therefore add sparkle, and a smile.

From a get well soon card

I’m sorry that you’re feeling ill
with nasties in your tummy
but luckily it’s not because
you're going to be a mummy


From a Christmas card

They say that they can’t help me
They say it can’t be done
Delivery of my feelings
to my very special one

It’s not that they’re too busy
Nor orders from above
It’s just that they have little sleighs
And mine’s a great big love


Having arrived at his house, to find my favourite things laid before me, biscuits red wine, cheese straws, the suggestion was I read the paper while I was waiting for my tea.
The headline on the front page was Red alert to blast BA jet (Friday Oct 04 2002) just above this was ‘What is the perfect shape for a woman?’ next to the headline was pasted in such a way as to blend with the rest of the paper, a photograph of me in my bikini! I am smiling as I type this, it was like sunshine and honey.

I went on to read the paper, on Page 5 was an article which suspiciously read 'Why Julie will always have more sex appeal than Jordan' and in perfect fitting with the rest of the page was a photograph of me in a state of somewhat undress, splashing around in the sea.

How do people think of things like this, I envy these qualities and the sense of fun.


Just for fun

Seven days and sevennights
Was all the time it took
To complete the worlds creation
Every cranny, every nook

Was this a lengthy project
all this time for just one plan
These were the questions muted
By gods ‘time and motion ‘ man

Explain to me these costings
Your projection says ‘one day’
All the fixtures and the fittings
Now, one week is what you say

All the animals and humans
The fauna and the flowers
The time for all these details
you quoted 30 hours

Why did you not deliver?
Why this under estimation?
You said it was a simple job
A basic ‘ world creation’

Says God – The timing of my plan
Was perfect at the start
But there was a small addition
A creation from the heart

My overrun was vital
My reasoning has rhyme
The quality, the beauty
A thing so precious takes such time

You shouldn’t be complaining
I should have your hearty backing
It would have been a travesty
To leave the world so lacking

Without my special project
They would have called us fools
So, one day to make the world
The six more for special Jules

If I hadn’t seen such riches I could live with being poor

Rabbit

Rabbit was very different, Rabbit was a real, genuine scientist, his desk was filled with paper covered in equations, now I guess he could well have been faking it, but I don’t think so, they looked real, he definitely seemed like a scientist, he worked in research for laser technology.

We lived approx 80 miles apart, when we arranged our first date we agreed to meet in the middle, he selected the venue, he also pointed out that although we were saying it was in the middle, it was actually 4.3 miles closer to me, Rabbit liked to be accurate and just a little pedantic . On one occasion when I pointed out that he liked to be accurate he corrected me, and I may have this the wrong way round, he said he was neither pedantic nor accurate, he was precise, precise related to numerical correctness. He was amusingly pedantic.
He was not geeky, he was tall , good looking and interesting, he had a lack of ease around me, and probably all women. Like the boys at school who just don’t have enough confidence to get to know girls well enough to know they are fairly normal and not nearly as special as they like to make out. I think because of this he had a fairly direct approach and attitude towards sex, he liked me to wear high heels, black stockings and suspenders and did not make any part of sex feel intimate.
We were out one night, walking under the stars, it was a wonderfully clear night, you could see thousands of stars… or so I thought, he corrected me, with the naked eye you can see approximately four thousands stars, I enjoyed his attention to detail.

He was unhappy when it rained because lasers don’t work so well in the rain, but that was something he was working to overcome. When visiting public toilets, he would not touch the door handle, so always had a tissue at the ready. I am surprised he was so relaxed about the potential ‘dirtiness’ of sex, but I don’t recall any issues. He married a tall, beautiful Brazilian woman he had spent less than 3 weeks with

Twisted

He was special, he played guitar while I bathed, we went to acoustic cafes. church performances, spiritual places, he bought me a miniature tea set, we toured the top left hand corner of Spain, it was different, he was different, he could perform psychic healing, he could channel spirits, he had possibly spoken to Mary Magdalene, I should have begun to wonder.

His divorce was an acrimonious one, after much involvement with CAFCAS he was allowed routine and overnight contact with his daughter. He let me read his divorce papers, she hated him, she manipulated him, they were both twisted.

It was fine for a while, then he decided to come off his anti depressants, possibly too quickly.
I can’t say I really noticed the change, but we started to have pointless conversations about why he was right to find happiness in being unhappy, I was unreasonable to think everyone wanted to be happy. I was unreasonable to want him to stop snoring, his sleep was important, I shouldn’t disturb him. When he deliberately started a conversation with strangers at breakfast in a B&B , he didn’t do it because I had said I hate talking in the morning. It was my fault for raising things he didn’t want to talk about, I deserved ‘boring, boring, boring!’ I was a drama queen, I was ranting, he was tired, I was unreasonable to want to talk, why should he carry my bags, that was just a way of me imposing my controlling nature upon him. And that’s just what I started to believe, although it doesn’t sound subtle, it seemed that way when I was right in the middle of it I couldn’t tell sane from deranged.
Then I could. An argument on the A470 was the end.

Bliss

As I haven’t experienced drugs I have no idea what the euphoria of heroin is like, but I know something better, I felt it once
I read that one of the elements of bliss is timelessness. There were times when we met on Friday night and I was unaware of time until Monday morning when it was time for one of us to go home. The space between was filled with conversation, romance, sex, cuddling, picnics in bed, wine, reading, wandering but always pleasure. It was so complete. I feel light headed even thinking about it. I remember feeling that if a child was made from such a feeling it would be incredible, invincible.

Miscellany - Affairs

I was going to call this entry 'Romance' and talk about poetry, and other lovely things, but when I came across this poem it reminded me of the luxurious pleasure affairs can provide. By affairs I mean relationships with married men. There have been some. Affairs mean spending Christmas, and Easter and most other family holidays alone, they mean lies and secrecy, they mean experiencing the very best of someone in their attempt to keep you happy by providing you with luxurious and enviable romance.

A picnic at Colchester zoo,

with crystal glasses smuggled from his house. A day in a private motor boat on the Norfolk Broads, with the crisp February sunlight. Poetry, Champagne, phone calls at many and varied times of the day and night. The feeling of satisfaction when he is so proud of you he has to entrust one or two friends to share the secret. Nights in hotels, and he pops back in the morning to bring breakfast. Secret emails and letters, every contact requires effort and emphasises the value he places on you.

I know this may sound naive, surely if he valued you, you wouldn’t be second choice, but it didn't feel like that and it still doesn't. Knowing you make someone happy enough for them to risk things for you is flattering.. The thought that you are the most exciting person in someone else’s life is worth spending bank holidays alone.




Do you notice when I touch you
Does it move you in the night
Can you feel a certain presence
As my spirit holds you tight

My body can’t be with you
But my aura makes the chase
Charged with conquering all distance
To deliver loves embrace

How many different lifetimes
Have we travelled far apart
Not knowing why we’re searching
Guided only by one heart

We meet: at once you know me
I can see inside your soul
At last once more I’ve found you
Achieved this lifetimes goal

Experience a slice of death
How can I ever sleep
‘til I invent our destiny
And then you’re mine to keep

Pursued across the eons
Many portals throughout time
Fate once again defeats us
But one lifetime you’ll be mine
P Howlett

Miscellany- Technique

If this is my means of reminiscing then it would be incomplete without mentioning sex, and the detail of sex. Sex has been an important part of many of the relationships, some for the better and some for the worse. I don’t want to be specific about who did ..or didn’t do what, I will find it difficult enough to mention the content.

On one occasion he said ‘I get the feeling you don’t like sex’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him I just didn’t like sex with him. I considered whether I had sufficient commitment to be honest with him and see if he wanted feedback. I don’t mean I was an expert I just thought, if he wanted some feedback, I could give some.

With a previous partner, there had been a series of ‘activities’ when I had initially tried a subtle feedback approach of wriggling, shifting around, fairly obvious ahh’s or ouches, to no avail. After a couple of weeks I had reached my tolerance for being vigorously pounded without tenderness or style. I bluntly pointed out he would have to start doing it differently if we were to continue. No surprise, I didn’t see him again.

I am sure as I write some of the weird and sometimes wonderful things will be brought to mind.
The first of which is the one who instructed me not to swallow. I obediently didn’t, in anticipation of what I may be asked to do, and to my surprise he sucked it from my mouth. Not kissed, not dribbled, not licked just very swiftly sucked, in some circumstances this would have been intimate and/or erotic; in this situation it was just weird, and was reinforced by the rationale given, which was ‘he didn’t want to lose the energy and power within’

Eeyore

I remember at least once writing myself a note to say, never, on any account plan to spend your life with this person, and without question I know that was the best advice and one of the very good reasons we split up. However that is no way representative of how I experienced the relationship . We were frustrated, and trapped and wanted different lives but I think he was probably one of the best friends I have ever had.

I don’t mean best friend because he was always there to listen to my troubles, I mean best friend because we liked the same music, had the same interest in films, could look across a crowded room and have exactly the same opinion of the people or circumstances within. He was great with my family, easy to be with and in the month between decision to break up and actually moving out we had some of the best times.
I remember feeling as if a pressure had been lifted, I could be myself, enjoy the moment without worrying about the outcome. The sex was great, we went out together and neither of us drove, we were free and it felt good.

What brought us to a close was boredom, we had done all the things we wanted to do with a friend, been on holiday, socialised, done ‘couple’ things, had some fun but our world needed to progress, from my perspective I could only see house, marriage, baby, I wanted to progress but was that the only option? Eeyore wanted carefree freedom, to smoke, to get drunk, to live a lads' life, we just didn’t fit anymore.

I remember saying we needed either to get married or break up. Six months later he said he was moving out. I cried, I cried because I associated so many good times with him, parties that made me feel alive, new activities that made me feel independent from my parents, we had been together during a period when I felt I was growing into me.

We had a minor relapse after the main break up, for the sake of sex and comfort . Many years later we met up, went for a drink and went home together, we listened to new music and felt the same meeting of opinions, we sat and cuddled on the sofa, fitting the way we always did, no less, no more,just the way we had been

Owl

Never was my mind more alive, more stimulated, more explored, more exploring, more scared, simply more.
So much to say to each other, endless debate and sharing. It was an intimacy I had not felt before, an intimacy that came from words alone. We discussed in realtime and we shared onlne. I remember how seemingly simple conversations were like jousting, but not jousting, not conflict, the words pushed boundaries, sometimes it was the subject's that pushed the boundaries but sometimes it was purely the words. I will not be able to explain the power a single word had, we were talking/typing, we had dual conversations, a routine one about the working day, and another about thoughts or feelings. On one occasion without warning he used the word 'kiss' and it was as if a huge glass pane had shattered into tiny pieces, a shield which had been separating us, a shield we would not be able to replace Another boundary broken, would we push further? who would push further?
For so long we met and talked without touch. An incredible awareness of each others physical presence and satisfying it through more verbal challenging . It may have been at this point that I realised the desire for sexual contact is the desire to get as close to someone as possible, to find a way to consume them. Still we did not touch.




The intensity grew, the desire began to build and we savoured the pain, just another way of feeling.We discussed the pain, how alive, how deep the feeling. Still we did not touch.
He makes me think of winter, lying on Brighton beach wrapped in big jumpers, cloud watching as the icy air reddened our skin. Then I think of Autumn, fallen leaves, hand in hand as we wandered.
We touched hands. In hindsight, this is the closest I have been to experiencing tantric sex. I must find a practitioner.

Pleasure

He was a pleasure, he was young, had stamina and confidence, he pulled me into the huge supermarket walk-in freezer, he kissed me, he always smiled, his arms surrounded me. He had feelings, he had cried over his ex, Walk away Renee by Billy Bragg.

We saw a show in London, our first attempt at being out on the town as grown ups.
I remember the look his mother gave us when she returned from her nightshift and found me half dressed at the kitchen table. I remember the look his mate gave us when he found us completely naked, me clutching the bed sheet because he had sneaked in through the window when we hadn't answered the door.
Standing at the window looking out for the taxi cab at the end of the road as the drivers wouldn't come into the estate, Roundshaw was a tough estate. So happy, ran with the Bulls, had sex in the Sahara , not with me. What would have happened to him? He would find a pretty woman and make her happy.

The whole cast

It was while I was shopping in Tesco, on my phone having a conversation about what a good idea it would be if we pretended to his friend that I was a prostitute, they could share me and we .......I could even make some money and yes of course he cared about me, it wouldn't have given the same pleasure if he didn't feel as if I was his. It was at this point, when I was at the till and my multi tasking was failing me a little, it was at this point I decided it might just be entertaining to note down how much 'fun' men can be.

There has been an Eeyore, Tigger, Owl, Rabbit, Christopher Robin, Pooh, maybe I should have stopped there, but it would have meant missing out on Happy, the Welshman, Chip, the older man, Charming, Pleasure, Woody and Twisted in no particular order.
Where to start? I was going to start with one who was fresh in my mind, and have just realised the very first feels suddenly fresh and clear even though he is over 20 years ago.