Swingers-Graphic Content xxx
Without Prejudice
Nev's fetish was Swingers Clubs, he had a fascination for them, seeing himself as some sort of gigolo, I said to him,
"Off you go"
"But don't you want to come too???"
"No"
He would mark the personals and leave them lying around.
"Babe, you can stop leaving the ads around. I'm not interested."
"Why?"
"Its bad enough to be having sex with one guy, not several."
"And I should imagine they look like some of those swingers on TV, all greasy comb overs and fat, with fags hanging out of their mouths, NO! "
He probably did go, one time, his Charlie Chaplin feet guiding him there, drunk for the courage, I never asked him.
He said he worked with a Birmingham lass at work and her and partner, Andy, were into it, showing him photos. She had a lot of piercings and tattoos, quite "chubby", Nev said.
"Off you go", I said
"But"
"I know, you think I should go, so you said. Well let me tell you, Nifty, those places are probably full of people who are that butt ugly they can't get a root anywhere else. OK.?
Or have a big ego, or have some sort of personality disorder that makes them one of those people, others avoid. Probably for a good reason. and bacteria, don't even mention it, please!"
So he let up on it, Thank God.
Maybe if I had a body like of my daughters, who uses dental floss as G strings, or was so low in my self esteem I wanted to die, or had nothing to do except shoot myself in the foot, the shooting of the foot would be preferable.
It was winter, the Gas was on rationing, (Remember that ??) meaning we had to shower elsewhere, which was just tedious. And he hated the house in Eva Street in Clayton.
It was a beuatiful weatherboard in a quiet street in Clayton, close to shops, it had been replumbed, re wired, restumped. It was level, no rot, an open fire place which had originally been covered up.
And he could not see the potential I saw. Would not, could not, he thought houses should be like his Mothers in Palmerstown Dublin, fully formed. He saw no value in restoration, I could have killed him then. So hard we had worked to get there.
I had used money from Lauren's court case settlement, paying up front the deposit, stamp duty and costs and he paid me back 12 months later. We always kept our money separate, never having a joint account in 10 years.
And I had moved into Eva Street on my own as he was in psychiatric at Monash for 10 weeks, for "emotional problems". Not once mentioning his alcohol problem which was 10 feet tall.
But he came out and seemed better, skinny as a rake and saying if he ever went in again, he was printing on his forehead,
"No I don't have a lighter or cigarettes, now Fook Off."
He was among the "nutters" for 10 weeks and learned not a thing. He was given medication, never took it, this was becoming like a pattern in my life.
The counsellors had told me eons again I was a "Coper", which sounded bad but was actually excellent. It means I cope with what ever I have and then want more.
I was happy with Neville for along time, but I didn't spend a lot of time with him.
We both worked full time, he played Soccer Saturdays and some Sundays, and I was in a world of bliss with renovating Eva Street.
The rooms were large with twelve foot ceilings, Original features, 12" skirting boards, a huge back yard with a massive tree, one of the tallest in the neighbourhood, floorboards, no rot on the weatherboards, a garage that was on a decided lean.
Neville saw nothing good about it and nit picked and whinged all the time. Not helping and I was close to strangling him within 2 months of his hospital stay and he was starting to drink again.
Furtively, So he went on Antabuse and still couldn't stop, antidepressants did little except delay ejaculation and gave you headaches probably from the delayed ejaculation, Nothing worked on him, the same as alcohol did.
We went to AA, and he would leave to go get a drink, his hands trembling, and if he did drink he would break out in a sweat. In the end he was drinking 5 days then collapsing, then a break where he would work 3 weeks, then a binge, then sleep 5 days and that was the way it went on, forever it seemed.
And in between he was still his darling self and we sat in nights with dinners he had cooked and programs he had chosen, Jonathon Creek, Soccer, English TV, movies, we had good times too.
And we had a house warming and it was brilliant, decorating the house with helium balloons, ribbons dangling down and tables groaning with food and outside lanterns in the trees.
The old house looked beautiful, warm, full of people and people in the garden, we invited the regulars from The Windsor Castle and South Yarra Soccer Club and family and friends. It went on until the early hours, our Irish friends the last to leave, "Lashed", and fighting with the cab driver.
We could walk to the shops and did, hurrying back in dark, cold nights, we walked everywhere, Nev being a fitness freak, he didn't see it ironic that he drank. And Mr Tremble hands went to work in a glass factory, which I thought was interesting.
I bought a new car, a Hyundai Excel and couldn't drive if for a week after my op. Nev picked it up from Ferntree Gully and crashed every gear on the way home, I just stared out the window and winced.
He was a terrible driver and crashed his car into so many objects that just appeared out of nowhere. like gate posts and brick fences. He had bought Deccos, old bluebird station wagon, when Dec went back to Ireland.
I still see the little Oiurish man sometimes although no one has seen him for 12 months or so, hope he's alive and well and driving some nice woman mad with his singing and drinking, love him forever' xo
Update 3.11.2011 Little Nifty Nev was Married 12 months ago and I am relieved and happy, definitely not sad, as we was not for me, but I'm glad he has someone to look after him, he needs that, congrats ex darling xoxoxo
Love Janette
Nev's fetish was Swingers Clubs, he had a fascination for them, seeing himself as some sort of gigolo, I said to him,
"Off you go"
"But don't you want to come too???"
"No"
He would mark the personals and leave them lying around.
"Babe, you can stop leaving the ads around. I'm not interested."
"Why?"
"Its bad enough to be having sex with one guy, not several."
"And I should imagine they look like some of those swingers on TV, all greasy comb overs and fat, with fags hanging out of their mouths, NO! "
He probably did go, one time, his Charlie Chaplin feet guiding him there, drunk for the courage, I never asked him.
He said he worked with a Birmingham lass at work and her and partner, Andy, were into it, showing him photos. She had a lot of piercings and tattoos, quite "chubby", Nev said.
"Off you go", I said
"But"
"I know, you think I should go, so you said. Well let me tell you, Nifty, those places are probably full of people who are that butt ugly they can't get a root anywhere else. OK.?
Or have a big ego, or have some sort of personality disorder that makes them one of those people, others avoid. Probably for a good reason. and bacteria, don't even mention it, please!"
So he let up on it, Thank God.
Maybe if I had a body like of my daughters, who uses dental floss as G strings, or was so low in my self esteem I wanted to die, or had nothing to do except shoot myself in the foot, the shooting of the foot would be preferable.
It was winter, the Gas was on rationing, (Remember that ??) meaning we had to shower elsewhere, which was just tedious. And he hated the house in Eva Street in Clayton.
It was a beuatiful weatherboard in a quiet street in Clayton, close to shops, it had been replumbed, re wired, restumped. It was level, no rot, an open fire place which had originally been covered up.
And he could not see the potential I saw. Would not, could not, he thought houses should be like his Mothers in Palmerstown Dublin, fully formed. He saw no value in restoration, I could have killed him then. So hard we had worked to get there.
I had used money from Lauren's court case settlement, paying up front the deposit, stamp duty and costs and he paid me back 12 months later. We always kept our money separate, never having a joint account in 10 years.
And I had moved into Eva Street on my own as he was in psychiatric at Monash for 10 weeks, for "emotional problems". Not once mentioning his alcohol problem which was 10 feet tall.
But he came out and seemed better, skinny as a rake and saying if he ever went in again, he was printing on his forehead,
"No I don't have a lighter or cigarettes, now Fook Off."
He was among the "nutters" for 10 weeks and learned not a thing. He was given medication, never took it, this was becoming like a pattern in my life.
The counsellors had told me eons again I was a "Coper", which sounded bad but was actually excellent. It means I cope with what ever I have and then want more.
I was happy with Neville for along time, but I didn't spend a lot of time with him.
We both worked full time, he played Soccer Saturdays and some Sundays, and I was in a world of bliss with renovating Eva Street.
The rooms were large with twelve foot ceilings, Original features, 12" skirting boards, a huge back yard with a massive tree, one of the tallest in the neighbourhood, floorboards, no rot on the weatherboards, a garage that was on a decided lean.
Neville saw nothing good about it and nit picked and whinged all the time. Not helping and I was close to strangling him within 2 months of his hospital stay and he was starting to drink again.
Furtively, So he went on Antabuse and still couldn't stop, antidepressants did little except delay ejaculation and gave you headaches probably from the delayed ejaculation, Nothing worked on him, the same as alcohol did.
We went to AA, and he would leave to go get a drink, his hands trembling, and if he did drink he would break out in a sweat. In the end he was drinking 5 days then collapsing, then a break where he would work 3 weeks, then a binge, then sleep 5 days and that was the way it went on, forever it seemed.
And in between he was still his darling self and we sat in nights with dinners he had cooked and programs he had chosen, Jonathon Creek, Soccer, English TV, movies, we had good times too.
And we had a house warming and it was brilliant, decorating the house with helium balloons, ribbons dangling down and tables groaning with food and outside lanterns in the trees.
The old house looked beautiful, warm, full of people and people in the garden, we invited the regulars from The Windsor Castle and South Yarra Soccer Club and family and friends. It went on until the early hours, our Irish friends the last to leave, "Lashed", and fighting with the cab driver.
We could walk to the shops and did, hurrying back in dark, cold nights, we walked everywhere, Nev being a fitness freak, he didn't see it ironic that he drank. And Mr Tremble hands went to work in a glass factory, which I thought was interesting.
I bought a new car, a Hyundai Excel and couldn't drive if for a week after my op. Nev picked it up from Ferntree Gully and crashed every gear on the way home, I just stared out the window and winced.
He was a terrible driver and crashed his car into so many objects that just appeared out of nowhere. like gate posts and brick fences. He had bought Deccos, old bluebird station wagon, when Dec went back to Ireland.
I still see the little Oiurish man sometimes although no one has seen him for 12 months or so, hope he's alive and well and driving some nice woman mad with his singing and drinking, love him forever' xo
Update 3.11.2011 Little Nifty Nev was Married 12 months ago and I am relieved and happy, definitely not sad, as we was not for me, but I'm glad he has someone to look after him, he needs that, congrats ex darling xoxoxo
Love Janette
