Sunday, December 19

window on the past

On Google Maps today I happened to see the bedroom window of Denny's childhood. Actually her brother's bedroom. Possibly where the incest used to happen. I've cropped and processed the Google view to make it as Dickensian and wintry as I remember it.

It was also the room where she sexually assaulted me. It was on a visit to meet her parents, and they billeted me in the incest room. Denny and a lesbian woman from work were given the double bed across the hall.

In the pub on the first night, Denny and her lesbian chaperone wanted to stay till closing time, and I wanted to get them home and split them up. I left the pub early in a huff and walked back on my own. (I walked that road again today on Google street view). I said goodnight to the parents, and went to bed.

I was woken after closing time by Denny stumbling into my room, blootered. In the street light from the window, I saw the confident way she took her top off. She dropped the rest of her clothes on the floor, and came into bed. It was the first time I had ever seen her fully naked. So gorgeous it was scary. She climbed on top of me. It was all happening very fast: a drunk was treating me like a sex object and I didn't like it. No conversation or foreplay. No connection, no flowers or chocolates. You'd think she'd never seen a Milk Tray ad.

Well, when I didn't respond she slurred something like "this is hopeless". She picked up her clothes and staggered out. Into bed with the lesbian. The whole incident must have lasted about a minute and a half.

In all the time I knew her, I didn't know about the incest, and she never knew about the Teutonic toilet training. Amazingly, we did eventually come together over a couple of druggy boozy years. Exciting but going nowhere.

I believe the incest contributed to her ultimate insanity and demise. Sometimes I wonder if I had a positive or negative effect on her life. I phoned her old dear with my condolences. She said "she still used to talk about you a lot". These days I think about her a lot. It balances out.


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  2. Albert? I hope it wasn't because of you that she topped herself. Anyway, having masturbatory fantasies about deid people is something you're going to have to get used to as all your old girlfriends fall of their perches. And I'm sure going out with a well adjusted fellow like yourself must have helped her inner demons no end, a positive encouragement really! Anyway, I'm glad I never met her. I know too many deid folk alreadys! Hotboy

  3. Hotters, I know you're kidding, but for the benefit of all other readers: Hotters did indeed meet Denny in the pub beside the Lyceum.

    And for the record, I am much too busy to sit around playing with myself. Unlike some people.

  4. I say!

    Two parties today, and I'm still more or less sober! Apart from what I drank post-party.

    I would like to recommend this.

    MM III

  5. Albert? Don't click on that link!! Horror of horrors! It's yon surf band singing Christmas carols! Pass the sick bag! Hotboy p.s. I've never met that wummin! I mind the big strapping one well enough. I can't see her topping herself. How did she end up? Did she get a farmer and work the land and all that!?

  6. Hotters, if you think she was strapping in those days, just wait till the trouser blog posts a more recent photie. Last I heard she was a single breeder.

    PS the Brian link doesn't work on an iPod anyway.

  7. Albert? Finding yon window on the net is pretty weird, I must say. I hope the wummin you forced to commit suicide didn't jump off the ledge. Not to worry! A librarian I know made some poor wummin turn gay just by ... well, you don't want to know that! Hotboy