Mind Blowing Sex
Without Prejudice
Ha ha, that got your attention, didn't It ??
By today's standards I came to sex (pardon the pun ) fairly late, in life. I was 16 and married my first lover and that was the way it was in the 70's. I would hardly recommend it to my girls. Now, I believe you should experiment, ( being safe ) and experience a few lovers before you settle down. You don't have to be Linda Lovelace or go out with Charles Grey and his Bloody Whip but these days I am running out of time and need to get that aspect out of the way before I commit. That's only my opinion.
Sex is over rated as an activity, I know, but if that isn't right in a relationship, not much else will be working either (pun again, sorry ). Once I started having sex, I thought, there's got to be more to it than that ! What had all those girls at Grammar School been raving on about ?? So being me, the bookworm, I "borrowed" The Joy Of Sex from my work and read it from cover to cover.
I worked in Childrens Books at the time in Myers at Chadstone. My Supervisor Mrs Flood asked me to help out on Adult Books and I snuck the book out and snuck it back when I was done. I had no idea of what I was looking at first (My Mother was a prude ) and had to read it furtively under the covers at first.
I shared a room with my Sister In Law to be in those days. She was a bit more clued up, coming from a farm, but neither of us spoke of such matters in those days. When she was out my husband to be and I were able to experiment at long last. But he was also a prude and our first big fight was over a book called, "Lassoo around The Moon" which was a "naughty" book in those days.
He had mentioned it a few times and I wanted to see what all the excitement was about. It was dull, turgid and heavy going and I didn't understand most of it. There didn't seem to me much sex in it. Just a mention of "Can you do the back bend", I was like Huh ?????
I quite innocently brought it back to the boarding house we all stayed at in those days and he went off. He said I wasn't allowed to read it as I was so young 16. Too late I already had ! And he snatched it off me and wouldn't give it back. No one took my books so I went ape shit and well we had the hugest fight over much more than me reading a "dirty" book. It wasn't even "dirty"
There's sex in it but It's not much. It's a Norwegian Novel about a coming of age by Agnar Mykle and I must have lost in Translation the most of it. But he wouldn't give me the book back and I ended up walking off to Chadstone, me and his Sister and moved in with his other Sister and wouldn't go back. Needless to say he talked me around and we ended up in our first flat, and I was almost 17 by then.
We were young and "in love", what can I say ? Except to say I was way more highly sexed than him and he was fairly prudish, nothing weird or even slightly weird ever crossed his mind. He could go without it for months and that was not going to do for a new bride for very long. I remember lying in bed, tense with frustration and desire and he was immobile. All his desire and energies burned up in work which was his passion and love. A workaholic.
I buried all my passion and desire into the kids and found once I had a new baby and was breastfeeding I was fulfilled by the baby and I could ignore him for a change. I had no idea what I was missing until I met older girlfriends, neighbours of mine, who were a bit more wordly than I. They would rave on about Sex for hours and I wondered what they saw in it. To me it was highly unsatisfying and almost boring. There was not a lot of affection went with it, which is what I craved.
There was excitement at times as we were both so young but a mortgage and 4 babies in 6 years mainly took care of that. We were both immensely tired almost all of the time and bed became a place where we just slept. Me waking to find a baby still attached to a breast, a cold cup of tea beside me. (The most romantic of gestures, in those days). My nursing bra having to be peeled off painfully as it was stuck with milk to already sore nipples. Sometimes I would just shower with it on, the better to peel it off !
The bed in those days was a free for all, anyway with babies and kids and dogs and snoring hubby. After a while he put a TV in the bedroom, which has to be the biggest passion killer of all time. And the bedroom became his place of escape from me and the girls. I would often just have sex, (after we learned to put a lock on the door ) and I would get back up and go and do housework. Having to climax elsewhere as I knew there was more to sex than 4 minutes of thrusting.
If it hadn't been for frequent breaks in our marriage and separations I would never have found out what "loving sex" was all about. The lack of affection in our marriage was enough to send me around the bend and I took on lovers after I found out he was cheating, anyway. He always told me I could do what I liked, have my own life. Which was his way of telling me, it was free for all. It was the 70's after all, the 60's leaving us with the credo of "Free Love"
I found that my desire became insurmountable after my body came back. An older girlfriend telling me the same. We both dieted and exercised together and were totally outrageous in our vanity and prick teasing of men. She was way bad and was the first of our group to get a divorce and ever after had a dizzying string of lovers. She then caught religion in a big way and literally changed overnight. Another one of the girlfriends said it was because she had tried just about everything else, or everyone else.
I admired her Chutzpah but could never quite pull off the same behaviours as I was ultra shy and reserved. That did change of course and I also was divorced while still relatively young. I then went nuts with dating men. I found out that I loved sex then in my sexual prime, but was always safe as I am an anal Virgo. Who dreads diseases or anything else that I might catch, even down to colds and flu.
The second year of divorce was to be my watershed moment when I also had 3 lovers on the go at once and just couldn't keep up with the lies I would have to tell. Men, I found out, can be fairly territorial, when it comes to women and I can honestly say I had to lie a lot. And I didn't like myself for that. So I stopped. I just stopped for a while. One guy telling me off for cancelling a date with him as I had a better offer. Busted.
So then I stayed on my own, buried myself in my teen girls and new baby Grandson and work. I was not happy about it but I really needed to give it all a rest for my own sanity and morality. I went interstate with one daughter and her baby boy and was quite happy not to be with anyone. She, the daughter was going through her own happy love life after leaving the father of her baby.
It was The Gold Coast and The Avenue nightclub where we could dance and have fun and we met men but never brought them home. We had a ball for a couple of years, she worked, I worked and we just went out a lot. Finding a great baby sitter and paying her for at least once a week outings. It was magic. I loved my work and stayed single. The Gold Coast is like that, people move in and out, usually never staying for long, so there are fresh faces all the time.
We partied hard, drank a lot and I managed to drive home along Narrow Neck pissed as a newt and the trusty Laser would steer itself home. One time I pushed Yvette out of the way from the front door as I couldn't get my key in the door and promptly threw up everywhere. She was laughing at my distress and the way I had parked the Laser, (sideways). I should have never been allowed to drive but as most pissed people think, I thought I was fine.
After she and her partner reconciled and went back to Melbourne I stayed on and was happy to. A neighbour of mine, also single and I used to pal up together. She had a job at the Carrara markets and sold cheap necklace sets and talked me into selling perfume on Saturdays, cash money. So I worked full time and did the markets on a Saturday and then both of us would party. I also had another single girlfriend who was in her 50's and she could party every night of the week.
We chose our spots, there was always party nights in Surfers, where there was food and wine for free and we would dance it up and stagger in to work the next day, hungover and bleary eyed. It was such fun and outrageous and I think my liver did a nose dive around then but I didn't care. It was the first time in my life I felt completely free. No husband, no kids, just me and I had just turned 40. I didn't date at all, just partied.
Then I did meet someone, we dated for a while, just the movies, parties, dancing. He was enormous fun and liked me a lot. He was from Northern Ireland had a great accent and was very good to me. And me as curious as ever had to bed him to see what it was like and sadly he had the smallest willy I had ever seen on a man. It was an inch long, hard, maybe the size and the shape of a cotton reel. I was shocked as this had never ever happened before.
I had to go out with him after that as I thought he would think if I dumped him that it was because of his size but I managed to make excuses about not going to bed with him. It was quite sad, really as he really was great man but...... I was having way too much fun and my oldest daughter insisted I come back to Melbourne. My youngest daughter was having a baby and I was reluctant to go back as I had 2 jobs, a place to myself, and a great social life.
Just as I was due to go back I met a gorgeous hunk of a man, a Croatian man, who was a sex God on legs. My older girlfriend madly wanted him and she was pretty hot stuff, a body to die for and was footloose and fancy free. I didn't even think I stood a chance next to her but for some insane reason he chose me and boy after the Pee Wee Herman this guy, ( young,) was something else. He was an amazing lover, I went from a famine to a feast and I was booked to go back to Melbourne within the month. Bummer!
He was tall. well muscled, he had the most amazing body, big thighs, (played soccer) and without a doubt was the best thing I had ever had up to then and then some. He was a fantastic kisser and caressed me all over, loved sex and was genuinely good at it. loving, insatiable. It was mindless, breathtakingly good sex and I was leaving! Aaaargh.
So sadly I had to go home and those sort of holiday romances are just that. Perfect in its own way. But best left as a sliver of amber memory, always perfect. He restored in me the sexual being I had always been and more. He found me desirable when I wasn't feeling desirable after the ending of a twenty year marriage. And usually they are always young. He ran his own business, was a hard worker but still had time for love and romance and I loved that about him.
So I went home, my daughter had the baby and another daughter had another and four days after my 3rd grandchild was born I met another Irishman. Also young, 12 years younger than me. He had never been married, never had kids and he was jut turned 30 and I was 42. He would become the most important man in my life. And to begin with all I wanted to do was dismiss him. He was living with someone when I first met him. no longer in love but still loved her in a good way.
Nifty Nev for ten years was everything to me. I can honestly say he filled my mind, heart and soul with everything. And I needed that. I never even so much as looked at another man while I was with him. And I wanted that. I wanted to prove to myself that one man could fill me up so completely that I was fulfilled. Nev did that and so up to now he was the love of my life, my soul mate.
He was beyond intelligent, wordy, loving, affectionate., adoring. He made me feel so special and loved I could not imagine my life without him. He had a brain that matched mine. We could just sit in silence and enjoy it. He had a superb mind, a beautiful mind and I fell in love with that. We were a perfect couple in that way. Best friends, best lovers, soul mates together. He was clean and desirable, loved women, had a great and loving relationship with his "ma" (always a good thing)
He stretched me mentally, bought me books, took me to art house cinema, plays, to Dublin twice. We bought two houses together as I had this desperate need to be secure and safe. To be "housed", he worked, he stimulated me. He was always thinking, or reading, just like me. He was romantic like no other man I had met up to then. He left his girlfriend of 8 years for me and he always spoke highly of her. he had no baggage.
He said he didn't like kids but tried hard to get on with mine. He thought I was too close to them and them to me and he was right. He was funny, witty beyond all measure and self deprecating. He was fatally flawed in that he was an alcoholic and that was so very sad. He tried everything to get off it, Antabuse, anti Depressants but in the end he was completely honest and asked me after ten years of trying to not keep on trying. he was happy to drink and we remained close friends for a long while.
In bed he was an outstanding lover. An insatiable and prodigious lover. He needed it he said, he grew anxious and testy within 2 days if he didn't have it. He was only a shortish man but he made up for it in other ways. I could never read the paper lying on the floor if he was around. I loved to read the newspaper outstretched on the floor. If I was peeling potatoes for tea he would be behind me kissing my neck.
He loved women and he loved sex and he asked me to marry him. But I couldn't let go of the past, I carried too much baggage and he cured a lot of that but not all.
And in the end after ten years and two houses we bought we parted. He was so brutally honest about his drinking and said he didn't want to give it up and I understood that. He did for me what no man had done up to then, allowed me to be myself. The bookish nerdy softy that I was. He always laughed at my fear of violence but understood it.
Saying I couldn't watch Bambi without leaving the room. I left the room at the bit in Pulp Fiction where the "gimp" appears, and hid in the kitchen and he called out to me not to be silly and then shouted,
Oh, you better not, he's buggering, your Man ! "
His accent and sayings made me laugh and I guess part of that was my Dad's Scottish accent as my Dad too was a funny man. Nev really did say things like tanks, for thanks and two tirty, it was so very sweet. Yvette said once,
"I've just been tanked on the phone, by a man and he said he's meeting you at two tirty" and we both cracked up.
He could be so funny in a delightful way and did impressions really badly of Sean Connory and Michael Caine and Taggart. And when he was arrested for Drunk Driving, he was .19, said that he drank only Tarrants when in Glasgy, (Glasgow) and he'd never been anywhere but Manchester in the UK.
The Police Woman that arrested him was so concerned for me she came around to see me and said,
"He's an alcoholic" and looked really sad. I replied,
"He says he's not, he's just a heavy drinker"
and I literally didn't know the difference as both my mum and dad were teetotallers.
"He's an alcoholic", she repeated.
It turned out her husband had been the same although Scottish not Irish. And on his death bed ( he was only 40,) he finally admitted to her she was right and yes, he was an alcoholic.
I pleaded with Nev to give up the drink but he couldn't. I did persuade him to go back to Ireland for a year, however, as I knew he would attempt to drive in Australia, unlicenced and I knew he would go to jail. He had lost his licence for 19 months, was a good boy over there, worked, stayed with his "Ma" in Palmerstown Dublin And told me he was cured of the "demon drink"
\
Needless to say he rolled off the plane back to Melbourne as drunk as a skunk.
And as for the sex part it was the best. the very best. He restored me to sanity and he restored my belief in myself as a woman. I will always love him and respect him for that. He said that I had the best tits and eyes he had ever seen on a woman. He told me that my Father had left me a special gift, "my appreciation of Music". He told me I had the best body confidence of a woman he had ever met. I never knew that.
But all good things must come to an end and we ended as we had begun as lovers and friends. He came one last time to see me and chased me around the kitchen at Noble Park and I wouldn't, couldn't. He was going out with someone else and I was infatuated with someone else. His girlfriend rang while he was chasing me and he was really nice to her on the phone. I knew he was happy so I let him out the door with a wave of goodbye.
My little wastrel, naughty Nev. I know now he has finally married and he would be 47 by now. I am delighted for him and I mean that sincerely, I have no complaints except for the drink and maybe, just maybe he has finally been "intervened on". I hope so because deep down he really is a a lovely man
love Janette
Ha ha, that got your attention, didn't It ??
By today's standards I came to sex (pardon the pun ) fairly late, in life. I was 16 and married my first lover and that was the way it was in the 70's. I would hardly recommend it to my girls. Now, I believe you should experiment, ( being safe ) and experience a few lovers before you settle down. You don't have to be Linda Lovelace or go out with Charles Grey and his Bloody Whip but these days I am running out of time and need to get that aspect out of the way before I commit. That's only my opinion.
Sex is over rated as an activity, I know, but if that isn't right in a relationship, not much else will be working either (pun again, sorry ). Once I started having sex, I thought, there's got to be more to it than that ! What had all those girls at Grammar School been raving on about ?? So being me, the bookworm, I "borrowed" The Joy Of Sex from my work and read it from cover to cover.
I worked in Childrens Books at the time in Myers at Chadstone. My Supervisor Mrs Flood asked me to help out on Adult Books and I snuck the book out and snuck it back when I was done. I had no idea of what I was looking at first (My Mother was a prude ) and had to read it furtively under the covers at first.
I shared a room with my Sister In Law to be in those days. She was a bit more clued up, coming from a farm, but neither of us spoke of such matters in those days. When she was out my husband to be and I were able to experiment at long last. But he was also a prude and our first big fight was over a book called, "Lassoo around The Moon" which was a "naughty" book in those days.
He had mentioned it a few times and I wanted to see what all the excitement was about. It was dull, turgid and heavy going and I didn't understand most of it. There didn't seem to me much sex in it. Just a mention of "Can you do the back bend", I was like Huh ?????
I quite innocently brought it back to the boarding house we all stayed at in those days and he went off. He said I wasn't allowed to read it as I was so young 16. Too late I already had ! And he snatched it off me and wouldn't give it back. No one took my books so I went ape shit and well we had the hugest fight over much more than me reading a "dirty" book. It wasn't even "dirty"
There's sex in it but It's not much. It's a Norwegian Novel about a coming of age by Agnar Mykle and I must have lost in Translation the most of it. But he wouldn't give me the book back and I ended up walking off to Chadstone, me and his Sister and moved in with his other Sister and wouldn't go back. Needless to say he talked me around and we ended up in our first flat, and I was almost 17 by then.
We were young and "in love", what can I say ? Except to say I was way more highly sexed than him and he was fairly prudish, nothing weird or even slightly weird ever crossed his mind. He could go without it for months and that was not going to do for a new bride for very long. I remember lying in bed, tense with frustration and desire and he was immobile. All his desire and energies burned up in work which was his passion and love. A workaholic.
I buried all my passion and desire into the kids and found once I had a new baby and was breastfeeding I was fulfilled by the baby and I could ignore him for a change. I had no idea what I was missing until I met older girlfriends, neighbours of mine, who were a bit more wordly than I. They would rave on about Sex for hours and I wondered what they saw in it. To me it was highly unsatisfying and almost boring. There was not a lot of affection went with it, which is what I craved.
There was excitement at times as we were both so young but a mortgage and 4 babies in 6 years mainly took care of that. We were both immensely tired almost all of the time and bed became a place where we just slept. Me waking to find a baby still attached to a breast, a cold cup of tea beside me. (The most romantic of gestures, in those days). My nursing bra having to be peeled off painfully as it was stuck with milk to already sore nipples. Sometimes I would just shower with it on, the better to peel it off !
The bed in those days was a free for all, anyway with babies and kids and dogs and snoring hubby. After a while he put a TV in the bedroom, which has to be the biggest passion killer of all time. And the bedroom became his place of escape from me and the girls. I would often just have sex, (after we learned to put a lock on the door ) and I would get back up and go and do housework. Having to climax elsewhere as I knew there was more to sex than 4 minutes of thrusting.
If it hadn't been for frequent breaks in our marriage and separations I would never have found out what "loving sex" was all about. The lack of affection in our marriage was enough to send me around the bend and I took on lovers after I found out he was cheating, anyway. He always told me I could do what I liked, have my own life. Which was his way of telling me, it was free for all. It was the 70's after all, the 60's leaving us with the credo of "Free Love"
I found that my desire became insurmountable after my body came back. An older girlfriend telling me the same. We both dieted and exercised together and were totally outrageous in our vanity and prick teasing of men. She was way bad and was the first of our group to get a divorce and ever after had a dizzying string of lovers. She then caught religion in a big way and literally changed overnight. Another one of the girlfriends said it was because she had tried just about everything else, or everyone else.
I admired her Chutzpah but could never quite pull off the same behaviours as I was ultra shy and reserved. That did change of course and I also was divorced while still relatively young. I then went nuts with dating men. I found out that I loved sex then in my sexual prime, but was always safe as I am an anal Virgo. Who dreads diseases or anything else that I might catch, even down to colds and flu.
The second year of divorce was to be my watershed moment when I also had 3 lovers on the go at once and just couldn't keep up with the lies I would have to tell. Men, I found out, can be fairly territorial, when it comes to women and I can honestly say I had to lie a lot. And I didn't like myself for that. So I stopped. I just stopped for a while. One guy telling me off for cancelling a date with him as I had a better offer. Busted.
So then I stayed on my own, buried myself in my teen girls and new baby Grandson and work. I was not happy about it but I really needed to give it all a rest for my own sanity and morality. I went interstate with one daughter and her baby boy and was quite happy not to be with anyone. She, the daughter was going through her own happy love life after leaving the father of her baby.
It was The Gold Coast and The Avenue nightclub where we could dance and have fun and we met men but never brought them home. We had a ball for a couple of years, she worked, I worked and we just went out a lot. Finding a great baby sitter and paying her for at least once a week outings. It was magic. I loved my work and stayed single. The Gold Coast is like that, people move in and out, usually never staying for long, so there are fresh faces all the time.
We partied hard, drank a lot and I managed to drive home along Narrow Neck pissed as a newt and the trusty Laser would steer itself home. One time I pushed Yvette out of the way from the front door as I couldn't get my key in the door and promptly threw up everywhere. She was laughing at my distress and the way I had parked the Laser, (sideways). I should have never been allowed to drive but as most pissed people think, I thought I was fine.
After she and her partner reconciled and went back to Melbourne I stayed on and was happy to. A neighbour of mine, also single and I used to pal up together. She had a job at the Carrara markets and sold cheap necklace sets and talked me into selling perfume on Saturdays, cash money. So I worked full time and did the markets on a Saturday and then both of us would party. I also had another single girlfriend who was in her 50's and she could party every night of the week.
We chose our spots, there was always party nights in Surfers, where there was food and wine for free and we would dance it up and stagger in to work the next day, hungover and bleary eyed. It was such fun and outrageous and I think my liver did a nose dive around then but I didn't care. It was the first time in my life I felt completely free. No husband, no kids, just me and I had just turned 40. I didn't date at all, just partied.
Then I did meet someone, we dated for a while, just the movies, parties, dancing. He was enormous fun and liked me a lot. He was from Northern Ireland had a great accent and was very good to me. And me as curious as ever had to bed him to see what it was like and sadly he had the smallest willy I had ever seen on a man. It was an inch long, hard, maybe the size and the shape of a cotton reel. I was shocked as this had never ever happened before.
I had to go out with him after that as I thought he would think if I dumped him that it was because of his size but I managed to make excuses about not going to bed with him. It was quite sad, really as he really was great man but...... I was having way too much fun and my oldest daughter insisted I come back to Melbourne. My youngest daughter was having a baby and I was reluctant to go back as I had 2 jobs, a place to myself, and a great social life.
Just as I was due to go back I met a gorgeous hunk of a man, a Croatian man, who was a sex God on legs. My older girlfriend madly wanted him and she was pretty hot stuff, a body to die for and was footloose and fancy free. I didn't even think I stood a chance next to her but for some insane reason he chose me and boy after the Pee Wee Herman this guy, ( young,) was something else. He was an amazing lover, I went from a famine to a feast and I was booked to go back to Melbourne within the month. Bummer!
He was tall. well muscled, he had the most amazing body, big thighs, (played soccer) and without a doubt was the best thing I had ever had up to then and then some. He was a fantastic kisser and caressed me all over, loved sex and was genuinely good at it. loving, insatiable. It was mindless, breathtakingly good sex and I was leaving! Aaaargh.
So sadly I had to go home and those sort of holiday romances are just that. Perfect in its own way. But best left as a sliver of amber memory, always perfect. He restored in me the sexual being I had always been and more. He found me desirable when I wasn't feeling desirable after the ending of a twenty year marriage. And usually they are always young. He ran his own business, was a hard worker but still had time for love and romance and I loved that about him.
So I went home, my daughter had the baby and another daughter had another and four days after my 3rd grandchild was born I met another Irishman. Also young, 12 years younger than me. He had never been married, never had kids and he was jut turned 30 and I was 42. He would become the most important man in my life. And to begin with all I wanted to do was dismiss him. He was living with someone when I first met him. no longer in love but still loved her in a good way.
Nifty Nev for ten years was everything to me. I can honestly say he filled my mind, heart and soul with everything. And I needed that. I never even so much as looked at another man while I was with him. And I wanted that. I wanted to prove to myself that one man could fill me up so completely that I was fulfilled. Nev did that and so up to now he was the love of my life, my soul mate.
He was beyond intelligent, wordy, loving, affectionate., adoring. He made me feel so special and loved I could not imagine my life without him. He had a brain that matched mine. We could just sit in silence and enjoy it. He had a superb mind, a beautiful mind and I fell in love with that. We were a perfect couple in that way. Best friends, best lovers, soul mates together. He was clean and desirable, loved women, had a great and loving relationship with his "ma" (always a good thing)
He stretched me mentally, bought me books, took me to art house cinema, plays, to Dublin twice. We bought two houses together as I had this desperate need to be secure and safe. To be "housed", he worked, he stimulated me. He was always thinking, or reading, just like me. He was romantic like no other man I had met up to then. He left his girlfriend of 8 years for me and he always spoke highly of her. he had no baggage.
He said he didn't like kids but tried hard to get on with mine. He thought I was too close to them and them to me and he was right. He was funny, witty beyond all measure and self deprecating. He was fatally flawed in that he was an alcoholic and that was so very sad. He tried everything to get off it, Antabuse, anti Depressants but in the end he was completely honest and asked me after ten years of trying to not keep on trying. he was happy to drink and we remained close friends for a long while.
In bed he was an outstanding lover. An insatiable and prodigious lover. He needed it he said, he grew anxious and testy within 2 days if he didn't have it. He was only a shortish man but he made up for it in other ways. I could never read the paper lying on the floor if he was around. I loved to read the newspaper outstretched on the floor. If I was peeling potatoes for tea he would be behind me kissing my neck.
He loved women and he loved sex and he asked me to marry him. But I couldn't let go of the past, I carried too much baggage and he cured a lot of that but not all.
And in the end after ten years and two houses we bought we parted. He was so brutally honest about his drinking and said he didn't want to give it up and I understood that. He did for me what no man had done up to then, allowed me to be myself. The bookish nerdy softy that I was. He always laughed at my fear of violence but understood it.
Saying I couldn't watch Bambi without leaving the room. I left the room at the bit in Pulp Fiction where the "gimp" appears, and hid in the kitchen and he called out to me not to be silly and then shouted,
Oh, you better not, he's buggering, your Man ! "
His accent and sayings made me laugh and I guess part of that was my Dad's Scottish accent as my Dad too was a funny man. Nev really did say things like tanks, for thanks and two tirty, it was so very sweet. Yvette said once,
"I've just been tanked on the phone, by a man and he said he's meeting you at two tirty" and we both cracked up.
He could be so funny in a delightful way and did impressions really badly of Sean Connory and Michael Caine and Taggart. And when he was arrested for Drunk Driving, he was .19, said that he drank only Tarrants when in Glasgy, (Glasgow) and he'd never been anywhere but Manchester in the UK.
The Police Woman that arrested him was so concerned for me she came around to see me and said,
"He's an alcoholic" and looked really sad. I replied,
"He says he's not, he's just a heavy drinker"
and I literally didn't know the difference as both my mum and dad were teetotallers.
"He's an alcoholic", she repeated.
It turned out her husband had been the same although Scottish not Irish. And on his death bed ( he was only 40,) he finally admitted to her she was right and yes, he was an alcoholic.
I pleaded with Nev to give up the drink but he couldn't. I did persuade him to go back to Ireland for a year, however, as I knew he would attempt to drive in Australia, unlicenced and I knew he would go to jail. He had lost his licence for 19 months, was a good boy over there, worked, stayed with his "Ma" in Palmerstown Dublin And told me he was cured of the "demon drink"
\
Needless to say he rolled off the plane back to Melbourne as drunk as a skunk.
And as for the sex part it was the best. the very best. He restored me to sanity and he restored my belief in myself as a woman. I will always love him and respect him for that. He said that I had the best tits and eyes he had ever seen on a woman. He told me that my Father had left me a special gift, "my appreciation of Music". He told me I had the best body confidence of a woman he had ever met. I never knew that.
But all good things must come to an end and we ended as we had begun as lovers and friends. He came one last time to see me and chased me around the kitchen at Noble Park and I wouldn't, couldn't. He was going out with someone else and I was infatuated with someone else. His girlfriend rang while he was chasing me and he was really nice to her on the phone. I knew he was happy so I let him out the door with a wave of goodbye.
My little wastrel, naughty Nev. I know now he has finally married and he would be 47 by now. I am delighted for him and I mean that sincerely, I have no complaints except for the drink and maybe, just maybe he has finally been "intervened on". I hope so because deep down he really is a a lovely man
love Janette
