Tuesday, 20 November 2007

The Future Mr Cake

It was the first days of January of a new decade. The great glamrock/disco/punk leviathans of the '70s had drawn to a glorious close, the term Britpop had not yet been coined and we were about to begin the time of the New Romantic with its hermaphrodite confusion of Beau Brummel-type fops.

My relationship with the Cherry Picker was over, my liaison with the Sugar Daddy was drawing to a close and, after a busy New Year's Eve, I had several dates lined up for the following week.

I was having an early evening drink with the Cherry Picker at the local Rugby Club and, on my way back from the Ladies, I was accosted by a group of my father's friends. Chatting away flirtatiously, I became aware of someone I had not been introduced to previously. He was great fun and, when the other guys drifted away to get more drinks or take a leak, he remained. Quietly confident, he was intriguing and clearly somewhat older than my usual beaux. I never returned to my place beside the Cherry Picker. It transpired that he was 26 and the younger brother of a friend of my father's. I laughed and commented that most of my father's friends had beer bellies and would buy me a drink, insist on kissing me because it was The New Year and then get progressively more drunk and more revoltingly lecherous as the evening wore on. He replied that 'he was not like my father's other friends'. Looking sidelong at him, this was quite obvious. He was handsome, tall, slim and athletic and played scrum half for the second team. He was also softly spoken, erudite and funny. I think I rather liked him right from the start.

After an hour or so, I remembered that I was supposed to be meeting another friend for dinner so I had to make my excuses and leave. He was very reluctant to let me go and kept making reasons for me to stay but I had not seen my other friend for ages so I had to go. I got my coat and, as I passed him on the way out, he asked if he could see me again. Consulting my diary, I realised that I couldnt actually fit him in until the following Wednesday, due to my previous engagements. Undeterred, he took my home phone number (no mobiles in those days) and we agreed that he would pick me up at 7 on the Wednesday evening and take me out for dinner. Dinner? None of the other young guys were taking me out for dinner!

The other dates turned out to be tedious dullards, even the one who took me for Sunday lunch, who was the most acceptable of a bad bunch. I was obviously very drunk that New Year's Eve... or very desperate!

The Future Mr Cake picked me up at the appointed time and drove me to a not-so-local bijou restaurant. There were candles and soft music and only one or two other couples. He took my coat, pulled out the chair and helped me to sit down. He encouraged me to choose the most expensive steak from the menu and then entertained me with funny stories for the rest of the evening. By the end of it, I was quite smitten and, when he kissed me very gently on the lips to say goodbye, my heart just melted.

By the February, I had decided that he was the one and, when my father was out for the evening, I invited him for dinner. Not being the world's greatest cook, I can remember that the fishfingers were burned... but the coupling afterwards was very successful.

It's really hard to go back and recall just how I felt nearly 30 years ago but I know I was totally in love with him.

I was 18 years old and I had spent the previous year running a four-bedroomed house for my father and younger sister, doing the housework and shopping as well as attending College fulltime and successfully completing my assignments by their due dates. I was also dealing with my mother's departure, my father's drunken attempts to cope with her desertion and abrogation of responsibility to her family... plus the physical manifestations of my anorexia.

The Future Mr Cake seemed like an angel sent to rescue me and make me happy. It's not surprising that he was duly accorded the 'knight on white charger' status that my romantic spirit needed to escape. Trying to reach back through all the tears and the resentments to the two innocent young people that we used to be. Before it all withered away. Just attempting to reconnect with that confused girl and how she felt makes me so sad because I know that there are so many good times that I have forgotten. So many memories that have been overwritten by acrimony and antagonism.

I know that he was quite worried about the age difference of very nearly eight years. Coping with what I was having to, I was very mature for my age but there were still many things that gave him cause for concern. However, I was very pretty and bubbly and he admitted that he had been watching me for several weeks prior to that January day, trying to pluck up the courage to ask me out and I truly believe that he loved me too in his own way.

He used to kiss me back then. Tenderly and passionately. And on that first night, he built me up to a point of no return as he removed my clothes and slipped his fingers into me. Like the Cherry Picker, he too knew what he was doing with his digits and soon I was coming just as hard as I was used to.

He whispered: 'What am I going to do with you?' as he reached over to his jeans for the condom but it was unnecessary. I had been on the Pill since well before the advent of the Cherry Picker so, for his first time bareback, he just slid into me and thus I opened the door on the sexual side of a relationship that would take 25 years to finally founder.

15 comments:

Fat Controller said...

That must have been difficult for you to write. What a lovely memory.

bittersweet me said...

beautifully written, very tender.

At eighteen, my boyfriend was of a similar age - 27, i think - but i don't remember having any of the mature and thoughtful processes that you were going though x

nitebyrd said...

Your bittersweet memory has broken my heart a bit.

Gorilla Bananas said...

Hell, that's sad! Fancying someone just isn't enough, is it?

wunelle said...

So sweet and sad.

It's never the destination, is it? Each one is a snapshot of an ongoing, moving thing. The episodes only stand still in retrospect.

Angela-la-la said...

It's a sign of the beautiful, fair person you are that you were able to write and publish this post. Love you millions, babe.

ps.

Looking forward to beating the shit out of you on Sunday. Pick you up as usual but, are you bringing the jelly or am I? ;-)

x

Sulpicia said...

I always always wonder what it is that happens beteen two people when it strays so far from the original intentions. I have had my share. And I worry for the future...

Sulpicia said...

Beautiful writing!

Dazza said...

Well written and interesting as always. It's funny how you often end up reflecting back when either a relationship ends or a new one begins. Being with Alex now makes me reassess my first girlfriend and other relationships that I'd tried to blank out of my thinking.

Have fun,

Dxxx

Old Knudsen said...

One minute yer young and in love not seeing any faults or not caring, the next its 15 years doon the line and you have a whole list of things that annoy you about yer partner.

Gypsy said...

I've often had one of those trips down memory lane that always seem to end in "WTF happened". It's the ones that start off with just small erosions of a great love, slowly chipping away until you are left with a mere skeleton of what you started off with that leave the biggest scars. In my own marriage its been complacency that has been the greatest threat and I am still trying to drive it out the door.

I hope for better days ahead for you Cake.

marky said...

i didn't read your long post but i saw your pic in the lingerie and i would like to have YOUR cake and EAT IT too.

marky said...

Ah Knudsen. Right again.

having my cake said...

FC - It was difficult... and yet it was easy. I still love my Husband.

Me - I think I was very mature for my age. I had to be to cope with running a house and my College work. When I hear young people complaining about their mother's moaning when they are late home from work cos their dinner is spoiled, I get cross because they are so lucky to have the luxury of a tea waiting for them.

Nitebyrd/GB/Wunelle - It is sad because, as I said earlier, I dont hate my Husband. I just wishe that he could have tried harder to make it work.

Ange - Ta muchly. We should probably bring Xmas pudding... x

Sulpicia - I hear what you are saying and it worries me too. You start of with all these amazing feelings and high hopes and then it all turns to shit in your hands, despite your best efforts... and thank you.

Thanks Dazza and, yes, it is interesting to reflect and compare your behaviour/attitude to different lovers.

Old Knudsen - wise words indeed.

gypsy - I wish I could say that I just let it happen but I tried very hard to keep everything together for a very long time.

Marky - Hello and Welcome. I'll try to keep the posts shorter and use more pictures, just to maintain your interest :)

BenefitScroungingScum said...

This is such a beautiful post Cake, it brought tears to my eyes x