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Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker

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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #330 on: February 24, 2011, 09:36 PM »
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            CHAPTER THIRTEEN

            INFIDELITY.

   We’d all gone out together for dinner at the Compton Arms in the New Forest, and when we left the restaurant to come home afterwards, Jill was so engrossed in talking to her brother, David, that she got into the first taxi with him and drove off, leaving his wife, Sandra, to get into the second one with Vic and me, and I found myself sitting on the back seat, with Sandra to my right and Vic to my left, and realized straightaway that it was the perfect opportunity for me to put my clever plan into action.

All I had to do was pretend to make amorous advances upon Sandra and convince Vic they were genuine, and then when we got home he would tell Jill all about it and she would be delighted to think that she had the perfect excuse to leave me and go off with him, without censure, as she wished, and so I turned to Sandra with a silly grin on my face to make it look as if I was under the influence of drink, and put my arm round her shoulders to make it look as if I was being amorous and lent over her to make it look as if I was kissing her, and put my left hand up under her dress, and rested it innocently on her knee, to make it look as if I was molesting her, hoping, on the one hand, that I wasn’t offending her too much, and being relieved to see from her giggling protests, that I wasn’t, and hoping, on the other hand that I was convincing Vic that my display was genuine, and being surprised to see from his strange reaction that I was being more successful than I’d expected.

I’d expected him to be no more than a shocked but silent observer, but was surprised to see that he was neither shocked nor silent but was both approving and loud, and was actually egging me on, as if what I was doing wasn't bad enough already, with raucous exhortations of:

   'Go on then, George! Get stuck in there!', accompanied by a show of affectedly, infantile giggling, which I found rather sickening.

   Instead of trying to protect Sandra and stop me assaulting her, as he should, he was actually encouraging me to assault her even more, in the hope that Jill would be even more annoyed with me, when she heard about it.

   He was actually encouraging me to sexually assault a poor, defenceless woman, for his own ends.

He was totally depraved.

And he didn't really think I was daft enough to think that his approval was genuine did he? And I couldn't believe how stupid he looked.

He was affectedly giggling, and thinking he was deceiving me, when he wasn’t, and, was failing to realize that I was deceiving him, when I was, so much so, that he was actually encouraging me to do it.

You couldn’t get much more stupid than that, and I was pleased to think how well my display had gone, but wasn’t so pleased to realize that, whereas, I was being friendly and trying to help him get the woman I knew he wanted, he was being unfriendly and trying to help me lose the woman he thought I wanted, which seemed a bit sad.

When we got home, I was pleased to see that he couldn’t wait to tell Jill what he’d seen, so much so, that he couldn’t stand still, but was frantically hopping about from one foot to the other in impatient agitation, but was surprised to find that he didn’t want to tell her in front of me. Why not?

It was obvious that I wanted him to, or I wouldn’t have put on my display in front of him, but realized that his wanting to tell Jill behind my back, was a good sign, because it showed how convinced he was that it was genuine, which boded well for his convincing Jill that it was too, and so I kept finding excuses to go out into the kitchen to make endless cups of tea to give him time to tell her the whole story, in my absence, whilst being careful to leave the door open behind me, so that I could hear what was being said behind my back and was delighted to hear that his frenetic, embellished, shocked and graphic, blow by blow account completely convinced Jill that my infidelity was genuine and that she now had the perfect excuse to leave me and go off with him, without censure, as she wished, and I guessed that she must be feeling truly grateful to me for providing it, and would lose no time in making use of it, but was surprised to find after two weeks that she still hadn’t gone.

Why not? I didn't know. Had my display not been convincing enough? Apparently not, so what was I going to do now? There seemed to be only one thing I could do.

I would have to put on another one, and make it even more convincing, and perform it in front of her, so that she could see for herself, how convincing it was, but how was I going to do that? I didn’t imagine the opportunity to put on a convincing display of infidelity in front of your wife came along very often, but was surprised to find that one came along that very weekend.

   We'd all been invited to a party at the house of a neighbour, called Emma, who lived a couple of streets away, who was a friend of a friend of Jill's, but as soon as we arrived, I was shocked to find that Jill deserted me and went off with Vic to the other side of the room, to talk to him in private, and left me standing by the front door on my own. Why had she done that? I didn’t know. It wasn’t very friendly. She’d never done it before, but I assumed that she must have something very important to say to him, which she didn’t want me to hear, possibly about her plans for leaving me and going off with him.

What was I supposed to do now? I didn’t know, and as I looked around the room I couldn’t help feeling completely lost and alone. All the other guests were happily talking to each other in friendly little groups, but nobody knew me, and it looked as if I was going to be left on my own, for the whole evening, when to my surprise an attractive young lady came up to speak to me, and introduced herself as Emma, the hostess, and I was completely taken aback.

I wasn’t used to being singled out for attention by attractive women at parties, or anywhere else if it came to that, and wondered what I'd done to deserve it, and assumed that it was just a case of her stopping by for a quick chat before moving on to chat to everybody else, only to find after half an hour that she was still with me, and that we were getting on rather well, and were talking and laughing together, in such a free and easy manner that you would have thought we were old friends.

   We seemed to talk the same language, which came as a bit of a shock to me, because I wasn't used to people talking the same language as me for having a rather probing and analytical outlook, which most people found boring, if not irritating, which had got me into a lot of trouble with my mother, as a child, who’d complained bitterly that I suffered from the annoying habit of forever wanting “to go into the ins and outs of the cat's tail", which had really got on her nerves, but not Emma's it seemed, who seemed to enjoy my outlook, for sharing it, which I found rather amazing.

It was nice to meet a kindred spirit at last, and then I suddenly realized that the close and intimate relationship we were enjoying was precisely the sort of behaviour I needed to display in front of Jill to make her think I was being unfaithful with another woman, to give her the excuse she needed to leave me and go off with Vic without censure, as she wished, and glanced in her direction, expecting to see her looking pleased and approving, but was surprised to find that she was looking hurt and reproachful instead, which I didn't understand at all.

Why was she looking hurt? That didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to be interested in me. She was supposed to be interested in Vic. She was supposed to have lost interest in me altogether, as indicated by the fact that as soon as we’d arrived at the party, she’d dumped me to go off with him on her own.

And why was she looking reproachful? What was I doing that was supposed to be wrong? I was only doing with Emma what she was doing with Vic: having a friendly chat.

 What was supposed to be wrong with that? Nothing! There seemed to be one rule for her and another one for everybody else, as far as she was concerned, and I couldn’t help feeling sick at her hypocrisy and her begrudging interference, and turned my back on her in disgust to concentrate on enjoying Emma's company in peace, and was surprised to discover just how great that enjoyment was.

   I'd never enjoyed anybody's company so much. We were becoming really close and the longer we were together, the closer we were becoming and it seemed from the way Emma was behaving that we were going to be together for quite a while, because she was showing no signs of wanting to leave.

She'd been with me for the whole evening, and so I guessed that she must be enjoying my company too and I noticed that the more engrossed we became in jocular and animated conversation, the more we became engrossed in jocular and animated physical contact, too, with the exchange of playful little prods and familiar little squeezes and I couldn't believe just how intimate and attached we’d become and I started to realise that the sort of intensely close, and yet relaxed relationship we were sharing was precisely the sort of relationship that I'd always dreamt of finding with a woman, but never had, and started to realize with amazement that Emma was the girl of my dreams; the girl I'd thought I would never meet, and the girl I'd feared didn't even exist, but, the girl, who, apparently, did exist and who was standing in front of me right now.

And as we continued to enjoy this blissful and transcendent intimacy, I started to feel an overwhelming desire the likes of which I'd never felt before, to take a woman into my arms, and hold her tight, and kiss her and never let her go.

And I felt compelled to do something I'd never done before, and would never have thought I was capable of doing at all: go outside with a woman at a party, under the scandalised gaze of the whole company there present, to find a secluded spot where we could hide away together and engage in an amorous liaison together, on our own, in private.

As, without preamble, I put my arm round her waist, and guided her to the front door, hoping that she wouldn't resist only to find, to my delight that she came along quite happily, and, opened the door and led her out of the house and down the garden path and out into the street, hoping to find some secluded spot where we could hide away from prying eyes.

And decided upon the only spot that offered, on the far side of my car, where we might linger, unobserved, and took her into my arms, and bent over her, to see with surprise how readily her face came up to mine, as she closed her eyes and pursed her lips, ready for my kiss, looking as helpless and vulnerable as a child.

And I felt overwhelmed with compassion, as I tenderly pressed my lips down upon hers, and discovered the most utter bliss I'd ever known, as she melted totally into my arms, and I melted almost as totally into hers, but not quite, for knowing that I couldn't shut my eyes and forget the world as could she, because I had to keep them open, and focussed on the house for fear of invasion by marauding forces in the shape of Jill, who might decide to come out, and poke her five eggs in.

   Not that I thought she would. She wasn't interested in me anymore. She’d gone off me altogether. She was interested only in Vic now, and I couldn’t believe what a weird situation I was in.

The only time in my life that I'd ever met a girl at a party, with whom I'd wanted to go outside for a clandestine and amorous liaison had miraculously turned out to be the only time in my life that I'd needed to put on a convincing display of infidelity with another woman, in front of my wife, to give her the excuse she needed to leave me and go off with another man, without censure, as she wished.

And I couldn't help thinking that she must be feeling truly grateful to me for providing it, only to discover to my horror, that I couldn't have been more wrong, as the front door opened and Jill appeared on the doorstep looking daggers-drawn, and was starting to set off down the garden path towards me, with Vic in hot pursuit, only to come to a sudden halt after only two strides, as she looked up and her eyes met mine, and I realized to my disgust, that I wasn’t hidden from view after all, but that she could see me clearly over the roof of the car, in the bright glow of the overhead street-light, and I felt utterly sick.

   What did she want? I had no idea. She wasn't going to remain standing there, was she? Apparently she was. What did she think that was going to achieve? She didn't think it was going to make me feel guilty, did she, when she had her boyfriend standing right next to her, practically holding her hand?

Apparently she did, but it wasn't. She'd made her choice and she could stick to it. If she wanted Vic she could have him, but if she wanted to stand there and watch me kissing Emma, then she could. I had no objections, but I had no intention of speeding things up, for her benefit, because I was too worried about Emma.

She seemed to have gone into some sort of ecstatic trance, which I’d never seen before, and I was worried that if I wasn’t careful, she might suffer some sort of psychological damage.

I'd never seen anybody get so far carried away, and so I watched over her carefully, and cradled her gently, and kissed her tenderly, sharing her euphoria, and was surprised to see how long it was, before she began to stir.

It was all of five minutes before her eyelids began to flicker and her body began to stiffen and I was able to release the pressure of my lips on hers and raise my head, and slacken the bond of my embrace as she smiled up at me in blissful ecstasy, and we slowly extricated ourselves, and I took her hand in mine and we walked back to the house, and I gave the gawping pair on the side of the garden path a smile and a nod of acknowledgment, to let them know there were no hard feelings, on my part, for their rude intrusion into my privacy, whatever there might be on theirs, for not liking what they'd seen, and took Emma back into the house, to continue the intimate and animated conversation we'd begun earlier, and at the end of the evening we said our goodbyes, and I returned home with Jill and Vic, and nothing was said, and I couldn't believe how well the evening had gone.

   I didn't know what the future held for Emma and me, but I did know that I’d certainly given Jill the excuse she needed to follow her heart's desire and leave me and go off with Vic without censure, as she wished, and assumed that she must be feeling delighted with me for providing it, and that she would lose no time in taking advantage of it, and then, everybody would be happy, and especially me, for being free to follow up on my rapturous relationship with Emma, but, as the days and the weeks went by, I was surprised to find that she still hadn’t gone. Why not?

I didn't know. I'd done everything I could to help her on her way, but nothing seemed to work. Why not? I had no idea, but it looked as if I'd been wrong to think that she wanted to leave me and go off with Vic after all. She didn't. She wanted to stay, but why?

There seemed to be only one answer to that question, because she loved me more than she loved Vic.

What other explanation could there be? None, and I suddenly felt utterly devastated at the horrendous implications.

That meant I wouldn’t be able to follow up on my rapturous relationship with Emma, which meant I would have to give up all hope of ever finding true happiness, in this life, because if I couldn’t find it with Emma, the girl of my dreams, then I wouldn’t be able to find it with anybody.

But I knew that I couldn’t find it with Emma, if it meant causing misery to Jill, because I wouldn’t be able to cope with the guilt.

If Jill wanted me, then I would have to stay, but I couldn’t help thinking that she didn’t seem to want me very much.

She hadn't let me make love to her for two and a half years.

When I asked her why not, she said that it was because she'd had to come off the pill for health reasons, and we weren't ready to start a family yet, but I couldn't help thinking there was more to it than that.




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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #331 on: February 24, 2011, 10:32 PM »
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What a cliffhanger George !!

So, you must believe in love at first sight (re Emma) or was she perhaps the embodiment of your fantasies.

I also don't really understand why, when you were so unhappy with Jill over such a long period of time, that you didn't instigate an earlier breakup.   While your leaving her might have made her unhappy, and you might have felt guilty, you were also entitled to a life of your own.  But perhaps the guilt would have been overwhelming ...
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #332 on: February 25, 2011, 12:10 PM »
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What a cliffhanger George !! 

Blimey ...   you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet !!   Smile

Quote
So, you must believe in love at first sight (re Emma) or was she perhaps the embodiment of your fantasies.

It wasn’t exactly love at first sight because I didn’t love her at first sight.

We became attached as the result of having a chat and finding out that we talked the same language and that we were kindred spirits ..  and that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other ...

Quote
I also don't really understand why, when you were so unhappy with Jill over such a long period of time, that you didn't instigate an earlier breakup.   While your leaving her might have made her unhappy, and you might have felt guilty, you were also entitled to a life of your own.  But perhaps the guilt would have been overwhelming ...

Well I was taught as a Christian that my happiness came from doing God’s Will and putting other people first, in general, and my wife first in particular, because of my sacred marriage vows and doing everything I could to make her happy, and everything I could to avoid her becoming unhappy ...
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #333 on: January 18, 2013, 08:34 PM »
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                                   CHAPTER FOURTEEN

            DEGRADATION PHOBIA

We’d agreed when we got married that we would be able to afford to start a family once we’d saved up enough money to buy a house, and we’d managed to do that eighteen months earlier, and so I couldn’t see what the problem was, especially as Jill had already given up working full-time, and was now working only part-time.
   The reason I was keen to start a family was because I was hoping that it would help Jill to see love-making in a more favourable light, and bring us closer together, and so, I found her refusal both upsetting and depressing.
   I would have liked to have taken issue with her about it, but was too scared for knowing that she had a nasty habit of laughing at you, if you brought up the subject of love-making, for thinking you were just angling after it, which made me feel humiliated and degraded, which I couldn’t stand, as I was only too well aware, because my efforts to avoid it, had got me into such a lot of trouble, in the past.
   The first occasion had been when I’d wanted to ask her to marry me, but had felt too scared, for fearing that she would laugh at me for being presumptuous, and say no, and so, had tried to work out if it was possible to ask her in such a way that if she were to say no, I wouldn’t feel humiliated, and to my surprise had come up with what I’d thought was a very clever idea.
Instead of sinking to my knees, with a ring in my hand, and asking her in a very romantic tone of voice.
“Will you marry me?”
I could ask her in very matter of fact tone of voice.
"If! I were to ask you to marry me, at some time in the future, what do you think you would be likely to say?”, as if I hadn't made up my mind to ask her yet, so that, if she were to say no, I would be able to laugh and say.
"Well that's OK, because I wasn’t going to." as if my enquiry had just been a joke, but the only problem had been that when I’d started to ask her my brilliantly phrased question, she’d done something I hadn’t bargained for at all: she’d yelled out “Yes”, in a tone of utter delight, as soon as she’d heard the word “marry”, before I’d got halfway through, and although her reply had filled me with relief and joy at the time, it had left me feeling completely stupid afterwards for realising that I had to be just about the only man in the world, who hadn’t been able to ask his wife to marry him properly, and had ended up feeling completely humiliated and degraded anyway, and, as if this instance wasn't bad enough, the next one was even worse.
   It was three years later, in the August of 1963, when my dad came down to Exeter, where I was studying at the university, to pick me up from my flat at 43 Haldon Road to drive me back to Eastleigh for three weeks, so that I could do some decorating for my mum, and we’d had to leave Jill behind because she hadn’t wanted to use up her annual holiday leave from the bank, to visit my parents, and so we'd left her standing on the doorstep, looking sheepish for knowing that I didn't like our being apart, and waving us off with Vic standing next to her, who, had very coincidentally come down to Exeter for a month to visit his sister, who lived nearby, and after we'd been motoring through the beautiful Devon countryside for ten minutes, my dad had suddenly looked up and said, in an exasperated tone of voice, as if he couldn't keep quiet any longer.
   'I don't know why you let that great lummox into your house. I don't trust him!', which I couldn’t help finding shocking and offensive.
Firstly, I didn’t like him thinking he had the right to tell me what to do in my own house, when he didn’t.
Secondly I didn’t like him calling my good friend Vic rude names, when it was very unkind and hurtful.
Thirdly I didn’t like him suggesting that my good friend Vic couldn’t be trusted, when I knew very well that he could, and was only too grateful to him, for looking out for my wife for me in my absence.
And finally, and most importantly, I didn't like him suggesting that if my wife were ever to want to leave me for Vic or anybody else, I would ever want to stop her, as if she were gold-dust and completely irresistible, and I was a pathetic clinging vine, and completely undesirable, when it was supposed to be me, he saw as gold-dust, for being his blue-eyed boy, out of whose eyes he thought the sun shone, (at least that was what he’d always led me to believe), and found myself feeling utterly incensed at his treachery, and turned on him in a fury and said vehemently,
   'I don't know why you think she is so wonderful! She's not that marvellous! I couldn't care less if she goes or stays!' and couldn't believe what I'd said.
Why had I been so nasty about Jill? I had no idea. What had she done wrong? Nothing, and I felt like a criminal. It hadn't been what I'd wanted to say at all.
All I'd wanted to say was that I didn't think men should behave like pathetic clinging vines, and cling onto women if they wanted to leave, like Shakespeare's "Othello" who I saw as a particularly sickening example, of whose creation, I thought the writer should have been ashamed, because his behaviour didn’t only degrade him, but the whole male sex, and made us all look pathetic and worthless, and made women look irresistible and superior and able to gloat over us for being inferior.
   And why had I snapped my dad's head off? We were normally the best of friends, so why had I lost my temper with him?
I didn’t know and why was I so touchy on the subject of being seen as a pathetic clinging vine?
I didn't know that either, and it didn't occur to me, that it was due to my mother telling me as a teenager, that she hadn’t wanted to marry my dad, for wanting to marry her previous boyfriend, Bill Keith, who had dumped her for somebody else, and broken her heart, and after whom she still yearned, and how, after she'd got married, she'd met somebody else at the Pavilion Dance Hall In Southampton, where she went every Saturday evening with her sister, with whom she'd wanted to go off, but hadn't felt able, for fearing that my dad wouldn't have been able to cope without her, all of which, I'd thought she should not have repeated for making her look treacherous and for making my dad look pathetic, and which had made me resolve to ensure before I proposed, that my prospective wife certainly wasn't yearning after somebody else, and to ensure when I was married, that my wife understood perfectly well, that if she were ever to meet somebody else she preferred, then, she certainly should not stay for my benefit, but should feel free to leave on a friendly and amicable basis, with my blessing.
   Now my outburst had dropped me in the mire right up to my neck, because by having been nasty about Jill in front of my dad, I'd made it sound, as if my marriage wasn't going very well, as it wasn't, but which I'd wanted to keep to myself, for knowing that if my dad were to find out it would cause him to feel totally depressed to think that his blue-eyed boy was not perfectly happy in his marriage, as he deserved to be, as I could see from the grim look on his face had already started to happen, and as we sat in the car together in total silence, gliding smoothly through the beautiful Devon countryside, that I loved so much, I couldn't help feeling completely sick and depressed.
I'd said the wrong thing, once again. What was wrong with me? I didn't know, my degradation-phobia had dropped me in the mire yet again. How could I keep letting it happen? I didn't know, but then, as if this instance wasn't bad enough, the next one was even worse.
   It was two years later in the September of 1965, two months after Jill and I had moved to East Sussex, where I’d got a job as a lecturer at Crawley College, and we’d managed to rent a lovely furnished maisonette, on the southern outskirts of Horsham, when to my surprise, after dinner one lovely sunny evening, she’d suddenly looked up and asked me if I would like to go out, for a walk, and I’d been only too happy to agree, and after we'd been rambling through the beautiful Autumn countryside for about half an hour, strolling down winding lanes and across grassy meadows and into the woods we came to a picturesque sun-speckled spot by a black paling fence, with a meandering river and a quaint little weir, and she’d suddenly stopped and turned to me, with an anxious look on her face, and said apprehensively.
   'If I tell you something you won't laugh, will you?' and I felt quite offended.
   What sort of a question was that? Why would I laugh if my wife wanted to tell me about something that was worrying her? I wouldn’t! My Christian principles wouldn't allow it, as she should have well known, for being a Christian herself.
Christians weren’t supposed to laugh if people told them about their problems. They were supposed to be kind, caring, and understanding, and I prided myself on being particularly kind, caring, and understanding, for having just obtained a degree in sociology and psychology, the better to achieve it and suspected that Jill was worrying for nothing and that I would have her problem sorted out in five minutes.
   I was quite good at solving problems, as she was well aware, because I'd solved so many for her, when we’d first met.
She’d told me, as we’d sat in my car outside of her Auntie’s house after church on Sunday mornings, how she'd been deprived of affection by her father as a child, and how she'd lost her mother with thrombosis, when she was eighteen, and how her father had thrown her out of the house, for staying out too late with her boyfriend, when she was twenty, and how she’d had to move in and live with her Aunty Lily in Bishopstoke, where it was really cramped and uncomfortable, and I hadn't been able to help feeling sorry for her, and wanting to take her under my wing, like a waif from the storm and shower her with love and affection to make it up to her for the love and affection she'd been deprived of as a child, which, I realised, must have damaged her psychologically, and had been staggered to think what a coincidence it was, that with my psychological expertise, obtained from reading "Psychology, Religion and Healing" by Dr. Leslie Weatherhead, the moderator of the Methodist Church, I'd met somebody who needed psychological help, and couldn't help thinking that God must have sent her to me, so that I could devote my life to looking after her, and felt overwhelmingly privileged to think that He had honoured me with such a profound and important calling and couldn't help thinking what a weighty responsibility it was and imagined that it was the kind, caring and understanding way that I’d helped her with her problems when we’d met that was largely responsible for her agreeing to marry me then, as it was undoubtedly responsible for her coming to me with her problems now.
   'No, of course I won't!' I said, indignantly.
   'It's about Michael,' she said, tentatively.
   Michael? That came as a bit of a shock. What did Michael have to do with anything? I’d thought we'd left him behind, in Exeter. He'd been the junior clerk at the bank where she worked. She'd brought him home, a few times, and I'd thought he was quite a nice chap.
   'Michael,' I said, in surprise, 'what about him?'
   'He had a crush on me when we were in Exeter,' she said, 'and asked me to marry him.'
   Had a crush on her? That came as a even bigger shock. I didn’t think he was such a nice chap now, but why had he asked her to marry him? It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be interested in a young pipsqueak, like he. He was eight years her junior. He'd only just left school. It would be cradle-snatching and Jill was obviously too mature to go in for anything like that.
   'Yes,' I said, kindly.
   'He's been transferred to London, to work,' she continued, 'and he said he would give me three months to make up my mind.'
   Transferred to London? Since when? Nobody had told me. Why not? I didn't know. And why had he given her three months to make up her mind? She wouldn't need three months! She wouldn't need three minutes!
   'Yes,' I said, caringly.
   'But he phoned me up today,', she said plaintively, 'and told me that it's all over, and he's going to marry somebody else, called Annabel.'
   'Oh, dear,' I thought, 'she's upset. Why's that? She must have felt flattered that he’d asked her to marry him, and now she feels deflated because he's taken it back.
   'Oh, dear,' I said, caringly.
   'But it's only been two months,' she added, tragically, 'and he promised to give me three.'
   'Oh, dear,' I thought. 'She's very upset,' and I felt quite annoyed with Michael.
I had enough problems keeping my wife happy, without having idiots like him coming round and making the job even more difficult.
And I couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed with Jill too. I would have hoped that she would have had more sense than to let her feelings be affected, adversely, by the immature and meaningless infatuations of a child.
   I guessed that the trouble was that she was too soft-hearted and that when he'd asked her to marry him she hadn't liked to turn him down out of hand for fear of hurting his feelings and so had tried to let him down lightly, but he’d misunderstood, and now she felt guilty to think that she’d hurt his feelings after all.
   'What happened, then?' I asked, understandingly.
   There was a pause. I hadn't expected a pause. What was there to pause about? She could hardly have any difficulty in remembering what had happened. It only just had.
   'We only had a necking session in the back of the car,' she said, defensively, and then, as an afterthought, added hastily, 'but only once.'
   I felt utterly sick. It was too horrifying for words. My wife had actually been physically intimate with another man in the back of my car. My car was defiled. It was utterly nauseating.
She'd never had a necking session with me in the back of my car or anywhere else. She’d never even kissed me. I hadn't known she was capable of it, but she was, apparently, but not with me, only with Michael. It was utterly soul-destroying. What did Michael have that I didn't have? I didn't know.
And what did she mean by: she'd "only" had a necking session? Did that mean that she thought that it didn't really matter if a married woman had a necking session with another man, behind her husbands’ back? What sort of morality was that?
And what did she mean by: “only once”? Did that mean that she thought that if a married woman managed to confine herself to having a necking session with another man behind her husband’s back, to only one occasion, it was positively virtuous? It was unbelievable.
I felt utterly sick, and took an involuntary step backwards in revulsion. I was no longer feeling very kind, caring and understanding anymore, as Jill could probably see from the look on my face, which was now causing her to become a bit annoyed, as she said resentfully,
   'I only lost Michael because I put you first.'
   Only lost him? What did she mean by: "lost" him? How could she have lost him? She’d never had him had she? And I felt even more sick, as the whole horrendous truth started slowly to sink in. She had! She’d been carrying on with him behind my back, for months or even years. How could she have been so treacherous? I had no idea.
And what did she mean by: she'd "put me first"? How did I come into it? I hadn't even known she was seeing him.
   'What do you mean,' I asked in confusion 'you only lost him because you put me first?'
   'What I mean is,' she said, disdainfully, as if she thought I was the biggest idiot God had ever created, 'the only reason that I lost him was because I couldn’t leave you, because I knew that you wouldn't be able to cope without me.', and I couldn't believe it. She couldn't have said anything worse.
She'd run full-tilt into the raw nerve of my degradation-phobia, and hit it head-on like a battering-ram, by accusing me of the very thing that nauseated me most: the idea that I would ever want to cling onto a woman who wanted to leave me.
How could she have got such a stupid idea into her head? I didn't know. I'd thought I’d made it perfectly clear to her that I never would, when I’d told her that if she were ever to meet somebody else she preferred that she shouldn’t feel guilty about it but should tell me about it straightaway, and leave, on a friendly and amicable basis, with my blessing, but she seemed to have forgotten, or had she?
   As if, what she’d said already wasn't bad enough, I suddenly realised that there was something even worse going on. She was lying.
She hadn't decided to dump Michael for my benefit, because she hadn’t dumped him at all.
She'd just told me that he’d phoned her up today and dumped her.
And so she was degrading me twice over, firstly, by thinking that I was so pathetic that I would want to cling onto her if she wanted to leave, and, secondly, by thinking that I was so stupid that I couldn’t see through her lies.
Lies she was telling, in an attempt to make me feel beholden to her for supposedly giving up Michael for my benefit, instead of feeling disgusted with her for actually carrying on with him behind my back, and I found myself feeling utterly disgusted at her depraved treachery, and turned on her in a fury and said in a tone of utter contempt.
   ‘Why wouldn't I be able to cope without you? I wouldn't have any difficulty coping without you!' and laughed derisively as if it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard of, and added mockingly.
   ‘You must be joking!’, and she burst into tears, and I felt like a criminal, and took it all back, and said I was sorry and that I didn’t mean any of it, and took her into my arms and held her tight and comforted her until she started slowly to recover, and we began to share amusing and malicious remarks about Michael and his new girlfriend, noting with particular hilarity, that the only “Annabel”, we'd ever heard of, was a cow and she started to laugh and it was all over, and everything returned to normal, but a week later I nearly died.
   I couldn't believe what I’d done. And I especially couldn't believe that it had taken me a week to work it out. It was the most horrendous thing I could ever have imagined. Was I mad? I had to be. What had I got so self-righteous and indignant about, when Jill had come to me with her problem?
What had she asked me to assure her that I definitely would not do, before she would be able to tell me about it?
Laugh!
And what had I done in contravention of my most devoutly held Christian principles, and in contravention of my most solemn assurances?
Laughed!
And not just out of benign amusement, but out of vindictive malice.
What must she think of me? I had no idea.
What did I think of myself? I thought I was utterly evil, and beyond salvation.
I knew I should apologise, and seek her forgiveness, but I also knew that I couldn't, because it would be too humiliating and degrading.
I could only hope that she would forget about it eventually, but would she? I feared not. I feared that she would remember it and hold it against me forever. How could she not?
My degradation-phobia had dropped me in the mire right up to my neck once again. How could I have behaved so badly? I didn't know, but then, as if this instance wasn't bad enough, the next one was even worse and for this one it seems I would never be forgiven.
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #334 on: January 18, 2013, 08:37 PM »
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I'm a bit pished, hon - will read with with eyes fresh tmw. Smile x
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #335 on: January 18, 2013, 08:38 PM »
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Ditto.
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #336 on: January 18, 2013, 08:40 PM »
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I'm a bit pished, hon - will read with with eyes fresh tmw. Smile x


Blimey! You came back quick!

Can’t wait to hear your reaction. This chapter had me in stitches. I can’t believe how stupid I used to be.

NB! “used to be!”

Must get on with Chapter 15 now !!!
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #337 on: January 18, 2013, 08:42 PM »
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Blimey! You came back quick!

Can’t wait to hear your reaction. This chapter had me in stitches. I can’t believe how stupid I used to be.

NB! “used to be!”

Must get on with Chapter 15 now !!!

hug  You are so off the wall - love it!  Smile
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #338 on: January 18, 2013, 10:02 PM »
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hug  You are so off the wall - love it!  Smile

Does that mean nuts?

I'm a bit embarrassed to say that it gets much worse, ....  so much so ..  that I'm thinking of doing some heavy editing  !!!!!
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #339 on: January 18, 2013, 10:06 PM »
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Does that mean nuts?

I'm a bit embarrassed to say that it gets much worse, ....  so much so ..  that I'm thinking of doing some heavy editing  !!!!!
It means nuts in every way, shape and form.  If it gets worse, then  re-name it 50 shades of George!  You really are 'something else'  hug
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #340 on: January 19, 2013, 01:03 PM »
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Feck me, George - I lost the will to live reading that!  All I got was some woman didn't like sex.  Silly cow! Neutral)
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #341 on: January 19, 2013, 04:10 PM »
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It means nuts in every way, shape and form.  If it gets worse, then  re-name it 50 shades of George!  You really are 'something else'  hug

It gets worse !
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #342 on: January 19, 2013, 04:12 PM »
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Feck me, George - I lost the will to live reading that!
I know the feeling !

Quote
All I got was some woman didn't like sex.  Silly cow! Neutral)

Slight correction  ...  didn't like having sex with me ...  for some strange reason  ...  yet to be established  ..  but not with everybody else  ...  it would seem  !!
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #343 on: January 19, 2013, 04:23 PM »
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I know the feeling !

Slight correction  ...  didn't like having sex with me ...  for some strange reason  ...  yet to be established  ..  but not with everybody else  ...  it would seem  !!
Life's a ***** and then you die.  Just have to build a bridge and get over it! x
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #344 on: January 19, 2013, 05:22 PM »
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Life's a ***** and then you die.  Just have to build a bridge and get over it! x

Very profound, but the weird thing is that when I started writing my book it became a journey of discovery because I didn’t know what my wife had got up to, but now I’ve worked it out, and so Chapters 1 to 19 no longer seem necessary, so I think I should jump to Chapter 20 where she tells me she’s pregnant with Vic’s baby and tries to persuade me to let her stay, because that is what the story is supposed to be about.
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