The perfect venue for a romantic tryst
Saturday 6th January 2007
I’ve just got back from an hour of kissing and chatting with Steve in his car at the nearest service station. He said to me, ‘I love being with you,’ and I felt my heart turn over, because I know he means he thinks he loves me. And d’you know what? It turned over in a good way.
I know this is stupid, I know it is pure lust, I know there is no way it can last for either of us, but then when I’m with him nothing exists outside of those moments, and in those moments I feel like I’m a teenager again, and everything, absolutely everything, is new and exciting.
The other thing is that for all the kissing, that is completely and utterly all we have done, except for that one time on Sue’s sofa, which wasn’t that much more: certainly no wandering hands. A lot of the time we sit and talk and hold hands and look into eachother’s eyes. It is all so romantic.
I feel like I’m 14, not 41.
Friday 6th January 2007
I’d known him for 8 days at this point.
There was so much that I loved – I loved the excitement, the newness, the snatched moments of time – all the escapism. I made it so easy for him to create my fantasy relationship, however much my head was still telling me there was no future, however much my imagination still couldn’t see it. I loved the feeling that I was alive again. I thought I was finding myself after losing myself in being a mother. I didn’t know how badly I would lose myself in this relationship.
Had I but known it, it wasn’t even his car. It belonged to his girlfriend, and he didn’t even have a driving license (there’s a story to how I found that out, way in the future).
And what I didn’t mention? He drove like a maniac. I thought it was exciting. It was just a maniac driving.