First Love
It’s hard to work out which relationship was my first love. Was it Jackie, when I was seven, Sue when I was ten, or Jules when I was sixteen, or should I only count the more adult affairs in my 20s? For me, it was the one with Jules because in a way it created its own universe which, with a bit of focus, I can still enter and feel a touch of its emotional intensity. Of course, there were other serious relationships which still hold powerful emotional resonances for me, and each of them also exists in their universe of time and space.
Perhaps, if there are multiverses, in some, we were together for a lifetime and that’s why we couldn’t stay with each other in this one. However, less romantically, I ought to add that there were also quite a few solar systems, shooting stars and meteor showers, but it’s probably best not to dwell on those too much, well, at least not now.
I did wonder whether spending time writing about my first love would be of any interest to you, but the more I read my diaries and the love (and not so love) letters from around this time, the more apparent it became that there were indeed significant universal issues wrapped up in this story.
It is no wonder there are so many songs about first love, whether it’s, The End of the Innocence by Don Henley, or Puppy Love by Jimmy Osmond. Okay, I’m joking, I’m not including that one. And then there are the more cynical, but highly amusing ones, such as Walk Away Renee by Billy Bragg, and Jilted John by Graham Fellows AKA John Shuttleworth.
My older self, i.e. me now, would have chosen Bill Bailey’s Love Song to illustrate my reaction to this relationship. It’s a dark, but extremely funny look at a less-than-mature reaction to a breakup. My younger self, however, would have seen some very definite parallels in Dire Straits’ track, Romeo and Juliet. However, if I’d have had to bring those two opposing parts of me together then I think they’d have seen a connection with the film Donnie Darko. In it, the main character gets to see the outcome of various scenarios concerning the girl he loves, and [Spoiler Alert], he finally realises the best thing he can do for her sake is to sacrifice himself. So, here, almost 40 years later, I look at a glimpse of Jules’s life, and I’m thankful, for her sake, that our relationship ended when it did because, in so many ways, she was much better off without me.
* * *
Jules – 1981/2020
The night we first kissed in 1981, I could not sleep, and when in 2020 I found her again it was like plugging in a connection that went back 38 years and took me directly to that time. I was a ghost of the future looking at our story, knowing what was about to happen but still wanting to see it again. It was like watching a film I’d loved a long time ago but this time I noticed subtleties and hints of what was to come, which first time around I missed.
In 1981 I’d fallen in love with Jules, and my mind was exploding with all the possibilities of what was to come. But in 2020, it was compassion, and a sense of sorrow, for both Jules and me, and the story I knew, that filled my thoughts and feelings.
* * *
The Shock of Love
As soon as I started to get involved with Jules, I felt a sense of dread. I knew it wasn’t going to last, and instead of thinking, “Fuck it, let’s just enjoy the connection”, I ended up trying to hold on as tightly as I could. I also felt dread because this type of relationship would not only reveal the multiple layers of myself to me but also the lack of control I had when it came to dealing with them.
When faced with the reality of being involved with someone romantically, most of us are likely to feel quite unprepared. There are, of course, a few who seem to have an easy ride when it comes to relationships, but in my experience, most of us don’t. Someone once told me, “If you want passionate love, you can’t have peace too.”
* * *
Expectations
Most of us have expectations of what a loving relationship should entail. In some ways, this is surprising, given fairy stories only ever went as far as, “And they lived happily ever after”. So, where do these expectations come from?
As part of my ‘extensive research’ into this matter, I was talking with a friend the other day, and she said some of our expectations might come from our parents, but for me, my parents certainly did not act as positive role models, conversely though, they did show me what to avoid.
It’s quite obvious that our community, culture, media, as well as the religions and ideologies that we come in contact with, will all have an influence. But often, they are merely an echo of what beats deep inside us in the first place.
For all the political shifts in the 70s and 80s, Bruce Springsteen never wrote a song about Mary drawing up a rota for housework. Had he done so, there might have been a lot fewer arguments about washing up, but I get the feeling his record company and fans wouldn’t have been too enamoured about his ‘New-Man’ direction. In the same vein, had I had this relationship six months later, I might have listened to the album The Lexicon of Love by ABC, and may have had a more realistic expectation of love. Yes, you’re right, I doubt it too. These external cultural influences may only have a slight effect compared to what’s already stirring within us. We may like to think our rules for life come from our higher ideals, but just below the surface, it’s biology that controls much of what we do and expect.
When it comes to ‘the romantic illusion’, an idea I’ve mentioned before, it’s very tempting to believe it developed via millennia of trial and error, but is it not mainly a by-product of our survival instinct? In this illusion, our love for another will be revealed, at first sight, we will be compatible in every way, and no one else will tempt us or break us apart. While this may sound very romantic, is it not just an elaborate mating ritual?
There’s a very long poem by Adrian Henri called Words Without a Story that lists all the things the writer does to win the “heart” of his beloved. Once they have “made love” he loses interest in her, and she is left distraught. This is probably a very familiar experience for many on both sides of the dynamic.
When we first get involved with someone it’s as if we are dealt a handful of picture cards. The romantic lover, seducer, whore or lothario, the mother, father, true one, or betrayer may suddenly inhabit our subconscious view. So, for instance, that ‘getting to know all about you’ part of a relationship could also be seen as a ‘figuring out which archetypes you are?’ stage. We tend to hope and expect our partners to be similar to positive archetypes, but any hints of them being otherwise tend to leave us feeling very anxious.
* * *
If You Want a Happy Partner, Choose a Happy Person
Given the amount of grief most of us experience when it comes to relationships, you’d think we wouldn’t bother. However, biology is not going to take such rational thinking lying down and add to that our individual psychological dynamics, all of which are desperate to have their moments too, it’s no wonder many of us feel doomed when we get involved with someone.
There are some who prefer not to have relationships, and thanks to them the hobby industries are booming, but maybe the opposite is true. After all, those who live a fulfilling life are more likely to feel less desperate to have a relationship. Consequently, they are less likely to treat a relationship as a crutch. For them, it’s something extra to add to an already happy life.
When we make a relationship too precious, the fear invoked by the possibility of losing it would be akin to the “my precious” ring in Lord of The Rings, and likewise may destroy us.
* * *
1981 – Loneliness
At 16, I felt lonely a lot of the time. I wasn’t happy at home, and even though I got on well with Mum, in fact so well John would complain we chatted too much, I would often go in search of companionship elsewhere. There I was, completely unprepared for a relationship but desperate for one. Not only that but my past experiences and genes – and yes, I do blame my mum and dad for them – added even more complications.
For me, relationships were never going to go smoothly, well, not for a long time. However, I like to take some consolation in Carl Jung’s words, the tree that reaches up to heaven must also have roots that reach down to hell.
* * *
Perfect Imperfect
I’ve said before we probably spend more time choosing which tomatoes to buy in a supermarket than we do selecting a partner. In a perfect world, we’d meet someone, recognise some kind of attraction, and spend time getting to know them before moving on to the next stage. In reality, our biology says, “We haven’t got time for all that crap, let’s just get mating.” In a perfect world, well, things would be so much different.
* * *
If you dwell on the past, you’ll lose an eye, but if you don’t dwell on it, you’ll lose both eyes.
* * *
1982 January – Jules
Jules had gone away for a few days with her parents, but to me, it felt as if she’d taken a year’s sabbatical in Siberia. She was actually near Pevensey, so that wasn’t too far from the truth. While she was away, I filled the empty spaces with activities that still involved her. Firstly, I used my new camera equipment to photograph our photo booth photos, and then I wrote a long letter to her.
Maybe because I knew my love for her wasn’t based on really knowing her, and likewise, I knew she didn’t know me either, I was ready to doubt her love for me from the start. So, when I wrote in my diary, “Sometimes I wonder if she loves me as I love her?” I was both reading from my internal drama of not being lovable and touching on something truthful about all new relationships: the love isn’t real.
On the fourth day, I, along with some other school friends visited part of London University to check out their psychology department. Whilst being shown around I got hooked up to a heart and perspiration monitor machine which suddenly went a bit haywire when I looked into the eyes of Lorna, a girl from my hometown who I’d chatted to in the lunch hour. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I thought to myself, after all, I only have eyes for Jules. But it did. Lorna saw it too and figured it meant something. You may remember my friend, Ian Owles, telling me that if the first rule of love is those who you want don’t want you, then the second rule is, when you’re single no one wants you, but when you’re with someone, people will throw themselves at you. Well, this was my first taste of them.
Lorna and I journeyed back to Sutton together and got on well. There was a spark between us, which confused me, but I sensed if I did anything with her it would be contaminated by my feelings for Jules and vice-versa. Even so, I still felt tempted. This was something I hadn’t even considered as a possibility, but as I was soon to find out, this was a dynamic I was going to have to contend with for the rest of my life. The pattern throughout my early years had been to look for comfort wherever I could find it. Whether it was the carers in the homes when my mother left me there or the other families I visited because my own family was dysfunctional. They were all a part of the same coping mechanism. So, if I already felt that our ‘love’ was mainly imagined and possibly short-lived, it’s no wonder I was very willing to gather around me possible substitutes. What I didn’t factor in though, was that the carers would never love me as my mother would, the alternative families were not going to offer me a home long-term, and by looking at substitutes I was saying to my mother and Jules, ‘See, you’re replaceable’, when in fact they were not.
There was also another factor to consider. Does being a male mean I’d be tempted no matter what my upbringing was? Not all men are philanderers, but it does tend to go with the territory for a lot of them. Of course, plenty of women act similarly too. So, what is it that makes some people more prone to cheating than others? The answer, as usual, is most likely multi-layered, but then that might mean my genetics and history have less to do with it than I presume.
* * *
Theatre
You’re in an old theatre, the lights are very low, it’s almost pitch black, and there are slight murmurings which fade out as the lights rise. The stage is on two levels. The bottom half has some American cars surrounding an American 50s-era diner bar with stools positioned along it. The upper stage is a cross-section of the top floor of a house. To the right, there’s a balcony with a wall and a vined trellis going down to the lower stage. The room that links to the balcony has a bed in it, some posters of a young Bruce Springsteen on the walls, and a desk. To the left of that room is a hallway, and to the left of that is a master bedroom in which there’s a four-poster bed and some classical ionic columns in the corners of the room. There is another door that goes to another room (off-stage) to the far left.
Jules is lying on her front, on her bed. Her feet are crossed in the air.
There’s the sound of people climbing the stairs. Her mother’s voice calls out, “I hope you’re revising in there Jules.” Jules, a bit panicked quickly jumps off her bed, switches her handheld transistor radio off, and throws the magazine under the bed then sits at her desk just as the door opens.
She twists around to look at her mother.
Jules’s Mother: Oh, you are such a good girl, working so hard.
Jules: I think I ought to take a break, I’ve been studying for hours.
Jules’s Mother: Oh, you poor thing. I’m going to make dinner in a minute anyway, so come down when you’re ready.
Jules [hesitatingly]: Mum?
Jules’s Mother: Yes darling.
Jules: Can I ask you something?
[Jules gets up and sits on her bed. Her mother closes the door, sits next to her, and holds her hand]
Jules: You know Simon, the boy you met the other night?
Jules’s Mother [warily]: Yes.
Jules: Well, I like him and would like to go out with him. You know, as a friend, nothing serious.
[Jules looks at the audience]: I don’t think now is a good time to tell her I love him.
[Her mum looks at the audience]: I knew it, she’s fallen in love with him!
[She looks back towards Jules and puts both her hands around Jules’s hand]
Jules’s Mother: Erm… I know he’s a very nice boy, but he’s obviously been hurt enough by life, and I really wouldn’t want to see him getting hurt anymore.
[Jules looks at the audience]: Aww, my Mum is so sweet. She obviously really cares about him too. My Mum’s the best!
[Her mother looks at the audience, licks her finger and makes the “I just scored one point” sign]
[She kisses Jules on the cheek, leaves the room and is heard walking down the stairs]
[Jules goes back to her desk and grabs a sheet of paper and a pen. She speaks as she writes]
Dear Mum,
I’m going to go out with Simon on my own or with friends. As far as I’m concerned if you don’t trust me now then it’s your problem, not mine. I trust myself and I know what I’m doing. When you think about it, I could be legally married in six months, yet you are trying to keep me in like a little kid!
[Jules looks at the audience]: Yes, I know. I’m a fast writer.
[She continues writing the letter]
If you say I’m not to go out with him then I will but you won’t know about it, that’s all. Don’t you think it would be nicer for you to know exactly where I am and nicer for me to not have to lie to you about where I’m going?
I thought about what you said about him being hurt and keeping it casual. I told him and it’s agreed that when it all flops apart we’ll still be good friends.
Don’t get cross Mum.
You’re a great Mum but give me a chance!
[She puts the letter into an envelope, then goes to their bedroom, places it on their bed and walks downstairs]
[The lights fade down on the upper floors but are brightened on the lower level. Simon walks onto the stage from the right]
Simon: Wow, what a cool set.
[Simon looks off stage]
Hey, do you mind if I have a cool actor play me, please?”
[There’s a puff of smoke and standing where Simon had been standing is John Travolta dressed up as Danny from the movie Grease]
[Simon’s voice comes over the intercom] “No… Cooler.”
[Danny, looks incredulous, sticks his finger up at the ‘voice in the sky’ and struts off as only cool 23-year-old teenagers do]
[The lights fade down, and a spotlight hovers over the right of the stage. Elvis, in his 68 Special leather suit walks on]
“Treat me like a fool, treat me mean and cruel, but love me.”
[Simon’s voice over the Intercom]: “That’s better.”
[Elvis smiles a little coyly]
[The music continues as the lights fade]
* * *
Stages Of Development
I began to become more aware of stages of development in many aspects of life around this time. It was probably as I started feeling myself moving through various ones myself that I became truly aware of their significance.
As I got better at art, I started to see other people doing things I’d done previously, and ahead of me, I could see others doing things I couldn’t understand. There are varying stages of relationships too. I may have understood that cognitively then but not emotionally. We were very young so it would seem appropriate that at least for some time our relationship would only exist within a certain framework.
At seven with Jackie, we had tea together and a kiss goodbye, then at ten with Sue we had one kiss, I wrote a few letters and I looked at her photo a lot. At sixteen, going any further than spending time together, holding hands, and kissing could easily end up with us derailing our lives, but that still didn’t stop me from wanting it all.
* * *
1982 January – Jules
As soon as Jules got back from being away, we’d meet up every day. The more I saw her, the more I wanted to see her, and she seemed to feel the same way. We’d meet at the library where we’d do our homework together for about 20 minutes then chat for the rest of the time. We’d bring each other letters we’d written when we were apart, and little presents such as poems and small affectionate keepsakes. Fortunately, I didn’t bring her all my poems, as I think one called something like ‘The Pain of Love’ may have worried her slightly. As things were, she would tell me off for being a bit too possessive anyway. Maybe I thought showing someone I wanted to be with them all the time was something they’d appreciate, but I hadn’t learnt yet, people not only need a little space to feel their own feelings, but also there is something far more attractive about someone who’s happy with life and still wants to see you. In contrast, someone seeing you as their saviour because their life is empty without you can be a little off-putting. Fortunately, in time, I did take that on board, although that was about 30 years later.
* * *
Theatre
[The lights fade up, Elvis walks towards the trellis, he gently plays his guitar and sings Love Me Tender. Jules gets out of bed and walks to the balcony. She closes her eyes and swoons a little. Simon walks onto the balcony]
Simon [Whispering]: Hey Jules.
Jules [Shocked]: Oh! How did you get up here?
Simon: There’s a little lift just off-stage.
[She nods but looks a bit confused]
[Elvis starts singing loudly]: Up above my head there is music in the air.
Jules and Simon: Shhhhhhhh!
[Jules’s parents sit up in unison, turn their bedside lamps on, look at each other, shrug their shoulders then slowly turn their lights off and lie down again]
Simon: Is everything ok?
[Jules grabs Simon, hugs him and runs her fingers through his hair – Yes, I had hair back then]
Jules: I love you and I missed you one hell of a lot, but I don’t want it to get too serious too soon if you know what I mean. I hope you understand.
Simon: Yes, of course, I do.
[Simon looks at the audience and shakes his head in confusion.]
Jules: My parents are very worried about how serious it might get, and therefore they aren’t going to be overly sociable or jolly in the hope we notice and finish it off because of them. They’ve really annoyed me.
Simon [Angrily]: Fuck ‘em!
[Jules looks anxious]
Jules: I hope you’re not serious as that will just make matters worse. I think if we continue to be friendly then in time, they’ll be friendly to you. I’ve seen it before with my sister.
Simon: Yes, you’re right, it won’t help if I’m like that.
[Jules pulls Simon towards her and gives him a big kiss. She pauses]
Jules: Hold on, I’m just going to change the music.
[Elvis looks at the audience and shakes his head in disbelief and despondently walks off stage]
[The spotlight goes to the same place to the right of the stage as before, when an eerie harmonica wails as Bruce Springsteen appears, he starts singing, The River. The volume and lights fade]
Bruce: Man, that’s the shortest concert I’ve ever done.
* * *
Reasons To Be Fearful
I couldn’t be sure exactly why Jules’ parents took against me; however, it wasn’t inconceivable that it had something to do with my disability. Maybe they felt that Jules just felt sorry for me and wanted to protect her from herself and there might have been other reasons, but I don’t think they were particularly being malicious towards me. For them, it was about protecting their daughter’s interests.
* * *
1982 January
Jules thought it would be a good idea to try a bit of aversion therapy on her parents. The plan was to get them to have a bit of contact with me, and hopefully, in time they’d be a bit more amenable to the idea of us at least being friends. When I entered the house, I wiped my feet on the mat at least 30 times until I noticed a slight nod from her mum that I’d shown enough respect. I was then led to the kitchen where Jules made me a cup of tea and we had a good laugh together. Perhaps it was the laughter that did it. Maybe they knew that laughter was far more dangerous than kissing or silence. After less than an hour, I was asked to leave. We were both fuming but deep down we knew this was the death knell of our relationship.
I was so angry that on the way home I called Lorna and asked if I could pop around. When I got there her mum and dad welcomed me to stay for something to eat and afterwards, I sat on the sofa with them and watched TV. As I left, Lorna went to kiss me goodbye, as our mouths touched it felt wrong. I told her I liked her, but I loved Jules and I didn’t want to hurt either of them. I felt awful because I didn’t want to reject her and had we met before Jules and I had, then maybe we would have got together. But it was too late.
When I got home, I asked Mum if Jules had phoned, but she hadn’t so I went upstairs, got into bed, and listened to the radio. I knew Jules would be listening to the same programme. There was always a phone-in competition at this time called Beat the Intro. The caller would have to recognise the song being played before the singing started and this night it was an easy one. The song was Don’t You Want Me? by The Human League. After the song finished, I read my poster of Desiderata which I’d put up above my tropical fish tank so was lit by the neon-glow light.
“What amazing words,” I thought, but I still felt shit.
I didn’t see or hear from Jules for a couple of days, but when I did, she told me her parents had ordered her to stop going out with me.
* * *
When I got to school the next day one of Lorna’s friends told me she’d cried after I’d seen her the other night. She said that even though she didn’t want to go out with me, she was touched by me being so straight with her. I don’t think I was as straight about it to Jules though. I thought to myself, “I’m sure God’s having a bit of a laugh at my expense right now.”
Our first lesson that day was geography. We had a new teacher, Mr Hay, who had a big biker beard and resembled a massive wrestler. He looked at me and said, “You okay mate?” The class went very quiet as this wasn’t normal. I said, “My girlfriend’s parents won’t let us be together”. He nodded very slightly in understanding then added “That’s heavy man”.
* * *
For another two days, there was radio silence between Jules and me, but on Saturday we had our art class. She was there and afterwards, she kissed me and said she still wanted us to carry on seeing each other. We spent the afternoon together, but then she was gone, and I fell into a depression again.
On the way home, I popped into Cameron’s house. He was one of my school friends. His parents were one of the few very happy couples I’d ever come across. I talked to his dad about the situation and asked what he thought I should do. He told me I was being selfish, and I should think about what was best for Jules. So, when I got in, I wrote her a letter saying I’d understand if it was too much for her and we could end it if that’d help. When I got into bed, I knew the end was approaching and cried.
* * *
The next day Jules called me, but to get some privacy I grabbed some coins and ran to the nearest phone box. When I got there, there was already someone using it. I made it clear I was waiting to use the phone by queuing in their line of sight which probably made them take longer. Couldn’t they see that this was a matter of life and death? Jules’s parents were only out for half an hour, and I had at least two letters to read her!
As the person came out of the phone box, they huffed a little whilst looking me up and down. I smiled and said, “Thanks”. I got through just in time and was able to read my resignation letter to Jules.
“They’re back, I’ve got to go,” she said, “but I don’t want to split up, I’m missing you so much, I love you.” And then the phone clicked off.
For the next few days, all I could think of was Jules. She tried to call me once when I was out. But then a letter from her arrived for me and in it, she wrote:
“Lying to my parents isn’t going to bother me that much because I’ve already warned them I would do so. In time, they won’t be so against it. You must admit this problem does add a bit of spice (or at least try to convince yourself it does) I miss you and I love you, but you know that anyway.”
She was willing to fight for our love and once again I was filled with energy and hope. On the way home from school the next day some kids from another school started a fight at the bus stop. I lightly kicked one of them in the head and as I went to kick another, he looked at me in recognition. He was the younger brother of a friend from my junior school, so I stopped myself. He looked shocked, maybe even horrified, or confused even. It was a strange moment of revelation, and he ordered the others to stop.
Afterwards, I made my way to Sutton Library where Jules was waiting for me. She gave me the biggest hug. We couldn’t spend long together but I breathed in every breath she exhaled and then she was gone.
The next day her parents were going to be out, so she invited me over. As I came out of school there was a roar of cheering from the kids at the bus stop who’d witnessed the previous day’s fight. I smiled but my main priority was getting to the other bus stop down the road so I could get to see Jules on time. When I got to her place, I lay in her arms whilst we chatted and laughed but all the time, I couldn’t help but listen out for the sound of a car pulling up or keys turning in the door.
“It’s okay,” she said, “they won’t be back for ages”.
And fortunately, she was right.
A week had passed since her parents had laid down the law. There were going to be some sacrifices but at least we were still together.
* * *
The following Saturday afternoon I went with Jules to get her ears pierced, she’d told her Mum she was going with her friend Scarlett. Her Mum called Scarlett’s mum to check they were together and luckily Scarlett’s Mum covered for us.
The next day I didn’t hear from Jules, but Mum brought me a letter that had just dropped through the letterbox:
“Dear Simon,
So, I’m afraid it all boils down to the fact that we’re going to have to reach an agreement that we’ll both be happy with. Either it finishes and we stay just as very good friends, or it carries on but we keep it from my mum and dad (which would be hard). What I don’t want is a full-scale argument and then we never speak again. I couldn’t stand that. I’m sorry Simon but I can see that life is going to be hell for as long as they think I’m going out with you. Why can’t they love you like I do?
Thinking of you and missing you
Your kiss is so gentle… I love you.
Jules –x”
* * *
Had I had any sense I’d have made my exit then, but I obviously wanted to suffer. In fact, over the next few days, I did everything possible to make matters worse. Firstly, when she took the risk to visit me at my place, I tried to push things further, sexually. Then afterwards, I wrote two provocative letters, in one I said I doubted she was truly in love with me and in the other I complained she didn’t try very hard. I knew what I was doing, I just didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stop myself.
* * *
1982 – February
I hadn’t got myself into this situation by accident, it took careful choreography by my subconscious to not only provoke some of the rejection that was beginning to come my way but also to remain in a position of vulnerability. So why did I have a part of me that wanted to put myself in the firing line? Was it because, as some psychologists hypothesise, we recreate difficult situations in order to gain a different, more positive outcome, or is it because this is what we know and understand to be ‘home’, what we believe is normal?
For me, what I knew of love was yearning. The drama of, ‘Will she leave or rescue me?’ was very much the distilled version of how it felt to me to be put in care as a child. So, was I trying to recreate that emotional scenario again? The thing is, this situation was also very close to how other people who were not abandoned as children, feel when they fall in love for the first time too.
Some psychologists might argue, that sometime during the early development of a child they realise they’re a separate being from their parents, especially their mother in most cases, and at that point, they’ll feel insecure and become clingy. So, even for people with a ‘normal’ upbringing, there may be echoes of separation anxiety evoked in their first experience of ‘love’.
* * *
Theatre
The lights fade up.
[Simon is lying on a sofa that is in the shape of a naked woman, his head rests on her breasts. There is a therapist covered in a golden sheet sitting near Simon’s head.]
Simon: I was just reading about people with separation or abandonment issues.
Therapist: I am sure that your past has had some effect on you, but what makes you think you have that kind of syndrome?
Simon: Well, whenever I fall in love, I feel like I become obsessed, and it feels irrational.
[The therapist seems to lose control for a second]
Therapist [raised voice]: Oh, what poppycock!
[She calms herself, and straightens her golden sheet]
Therapist: Isn’t that how most people react when they fall in love? Does that mean that all the great poets and artists were mental, [she corrects herself] I mean had mental health and abandonment issues?
Me: Yes. I mean, I would like to think that I could have a more reasonable reaction.
[The therapist laughs a big laugh]
Therapist: Yes, you and the rest of the human race. Falling in love is not noted for being a state of rationality.
The lights fade down.
* * *
1982 – February – Sutton Library
Jules and I had been going out with each other for about five weeks, and although her parents had ordered her to stop seeing me, she disobeyed them and tried to meet me as often as she could. Sutton Library was our main meeting place, and overall, it was a safe place for us. However, we did get told off for having a snog in the children’s library, and soon after that got a further warning to change our ways after I thumped a bookcase which made a big bang. This had been my reaction to an old woman hissing at me “You make me sick” when she came across Jules sitting on my lap in one of the comfy reading chairs.
* * *
1982 – February
Most days, I would bunk off school a little early so I could get the bus that would take me to Jules’s school on time to meet her as she came out the front gates. If we only had a short time together, we’d go to the American Café, in Cheam, where we’d have a cappuccino, chat, hold hands and be affectionate. Although it wasn’t perfect, we both liked it and some days, if we had a bit longer, we’d go to Sutton and either go shopping or do our homework in the library. There were a few times when Jules managed to come to my place. I’d put my head on her lap, while she’d hum and stroke my hair. When we weren’t together, we’d chat on the phone or send letters to each other.
There were times when the gaps between seeing each other might be longer than a few days, that’s when the doubts would set in. I’d feel forgotten and focus on the end.
* * *
1982 – Human Geography Lesson
Our lessons with Mr Hay were becoming more entertaining with each passing day. He was able to mix a bit of learning with having open and frank discussions with us about life. Especially our love lives. We loved it and looked forward to his lessons.
One day I gave him one of my poems to read and the next day he returned it with some humorous comments added. Just to have been given some attention meant something.
At the end of the lesson, he told me he had a girl coming around that night, which, though inappropriate, opened my eyes to him being human too.
* * *
The Look of Love
There is, of course, a big difference between what we learn on a cognitive level rather than on an emotional one. Even at 16, I was completely unaware of how I should treat someone I supposedly loved. When Jules and I told each other we loved each other, we meant, “I love how you make me feel”. But what we heard was some kind of commitment to a duty of care. For me, it was partly about never leaving me, for her, being cared for. Either way, both of us were on a journey of discovery about love, it’s just we didn’t expect the first few miles to be as fraught as they were.
* * *
1982 – February – Geography Lesson
The last thing Mr Hay had told me the week before, was he was going out with a woman on Valentine’s Day, but as we entered his class there was a new teacher, a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Mrs Ballantyne. She informed us that Mr Hay had had a mental breakdown and she’d be our new teacher. I automatically assumed he’d had a breakdown because of something to do with his relationship with that woman, but there was no evidence to support that.
Our new teacher sent us out to do a survey of local shops so we could see how property types changed as they got further away from the centre of the town. I was partnered with Phil who agreed with me to stop at as many cafes as possible en route, where we’d have a cup of tea and snack whilst we just made up the data because we knew it would never be checked. In a way, it was our way of honouring the loss of Mr Hay.
* * *
1982 – February – Near Missing
Over the next few days, Jules and I met up twice, the first time was to go to a party. We arrived separately so as not to arouse suspicion from her parents, but as her dad was dropping her off, I had to dart into someone’s garden so he wouldn’t see me. No matter how careful you are it only takes one mistake to set the alarm bells off.
Two days after the party Jules came around to my house. She’d told her mum she was going swimming at Westcroft sports centre which was around the corner from where I lived. A short while after Jules arrived the phone rang, and John called out that it was for me. “It’s Jules’s Mum, she wants a word with you.” He said.
“Hello Simon, can I speak to Jules please?” she asked.
“She’s not here,” I said as calmly as I could, then I added for effect,
“Is she ok? Has she run away?”
“No, of course, she hasn’t run away! It’s just she said she was going swimming around the corner from you and she’s not there.”
“Oh, well she’s not here, sorry,” I said,
“Oh ok, thank you.” She said. I’m sure she wanted to add, “You’re not as good at lying as you think you are buster!”, but instead, she politely said goodbye and put the phone down.
This was about 12 years before mobile phones were commonplace, so I automatically presumed she was calling from a nearby phone box. I walked to the front room looked out the window and was certain I could see Jules’s parents’ car parked across the road. That meant she was at the telephone box around the corner, so she was likely to be outside within seconds.
I went to the back room where Jules was still oblivious and ready to resume cuddling up, but as I told her what had gone on, we both knew that that was probably our last ever kiss as girlfriend and boyfriend.
I suggested calling my neighbours to ask them if Jules could climb over their fence and make her way back to Westcroft before her mum did. Jules thought it best too, or at least played along with my genius idea. I called the neighbours and they agreed to help with our version of The Great Escape. Remember, this was suburbia, so any excitement was always more than welcome. They helped Jules over, escorted her to the main road and gave her directions to a back route so her Mum wouldn’t see her. She did everything to plan, but her mother was one step ahead of us. As Jules entered the sports centre her mum was waiting for her.
* * *
1982 – Dear Simon
The next day Jules asked me to meet her in the library. I knew what was coming as she solemnly passed me an envelope and shook as I read its contents. I felt cold shudders of fear as I read the words which I had dreaded right from the beginning.
The letter said:
Dear Simon,
I really shouldn’t be writing this. I should say it to you. If I did I would choke up with tears… You must know what I’m going to say. I should’ve said it was over when you gave me the chance a couple of weeks ago, but I guess I thought it could have worked out… This hurts like Hell. On Jan 16th, you asked me to promise not to chuck you on account of my parents. I suppose I didn’t wholly keep that promise. The tension at home is unbearable and I can’t stand it.
I will keep your letters, poems, bracelet and picture on my wall. Most of all I will keep happy memories of you. Just keep in touch and try to remain great friends.
I walked with Jules up the road. She held my arm and kissed me goodbye at the junction of Mulgrave Road and Bridge Road (Oh, the symbolism!), and then we went our separate ways. I looked over my shoulder and could see Jules was crying. I couldn’t believe what was happening, so I went around to Lorna’s and spent the day there in shock.
You would think that I’d have gracefully bowed out at this point but instead, the next month was still fertile ground for my dynamics to have their way.
* * *
Theatre
In the therapy room.
Simon: I feel like dying without Jules.
Therapist: Have you heard of the five stages of grief?
Simon: No
Therapist: Well, let me enlighten you.
[The stage goes dark except for a spotlight on the therapist]
She stands up, the golden cover slips off her to reveal a beautiful belly dancer. She continues to dance as she sings the following lines to the rhythm of Middle Eastern drums.
Therapist: I want you to think D.A.N.G.A. Did you get that, baby?
Simon: Yes
Therapist: D is for denial as you won’t believe it’s true, is that right, am I wrong, baby is that you?
Simon: Yes
Therapist: A is for Anger because you’re gonna feel rage. But take my advice, try not to engage.
N is the negotiation you’re going to try. You’ll probably beg for the end not to be nigh.
[She looks at the audience] Who writes this shit
[She looks back at Simon]
G is for gloomy, that’s how you’re gonna feel. If you don’t feel that then it’s not the true deal.
And A is near the end when you Accept what’s real.
You got that baby, does it feel true?
If you want to heal your heart,
It’s something
You’re gonna have to do.
[The therapist sits back down and covers herself]
[The spotlight fades down]
* * *
1982 – March
Sure enough, the first few weeks were full of denial, anger, bargaining and depression. However, I don’t think there was much, if any, acceptance.
At first, Jules phoned each day, and it was as if nothing had changed. I still couldn’t believe it was over. But when I asked her if we could get back together, she just went quiet. Jules would tell me of her arguments with her parents, and because I knew she still cared and missed me, I seriously believed we might reunite. When she’d write, she would end each letter saying how much she missed me, but rather than seeing it as her simply letting me know she still had strong feelings, I took it to mean there was a chance. After a few weeks, she didn’t budge and the anger kicked in, at that point my letters to her became accusatory. My dynamics tended towards seeing the person who was supposed to love me as not loving me properly. So, I huffed and I puffed until all the walls came down.
When I next saw Jules, she told me her parents had grounded her until after her exams in the summer. She held my arm as she told me as I gently stroked my nose against her face, but we didn’t kiss, except to say goodbye. Even then though, I thought we might, somehow, get back together.
Over the next two weeks, I began to come to terms with it being over. However, I stayed in contact with three of her friends, maybe because I couldn’t let go, but one of them was Dee who I’d met when we all met for the first time, and it felt like a genuine friendship which I had the right to pursue.
Jules and I met one more time, she held my paw and even invited me to come to her house, but her parents found out, revoked the invitation, and banned her from art classes too. From this point on there was no more intimacy and I went back to my old ways of seeking comfort from friends and slowly disengaged from Jules. Well, at least to a point. On my birthday Jules sent a card. In it, she said:
“You know that I loved you in my own valentine way and you must know how much I’m missing you. I still love you in my way although I feel what’s happened is for the best.
Don’t contact me…remember me. I’ll always remember you.
Goodbye Simon –xx-
We would occasionally bump into each other at the lessons after her parents lifted the ban, but she told a mutual friend my jovial insults were beginning to make her sick and tired of me, and in time we stopped talking to each other. But it was the kind of silence that said quite a lot.
* * *
Love
Jules valued family far more than me, I was more of a street kid who felt abandoned by their family and sought allegiances with other street kids. The love of the family is partly based on compassion and unconditional love whereas the gangs are held together by mutual advantage, as well as honour and fear. In real terms though, I was more of a part-time street kid, because most of the time I sought out other families to spend time with and let’s face it, I hadn’t been totally abandoned.
To me, true love meant that I was possessed by the person I loved. They were in my mind all the time and were the most important ‘thing’ in my life. Conversely, I expected them to be possessed by me too. The story of Romeo and Juliet was where I was at. So, when Jules didn’t want to go against her parents, as Shakespeare’s lovers did, I felt betrayed.
Whilst it’s true that when someone gets married their parents should be secondary to their married partner in many ways, I was completely oblivious to the notion of stages of development and couldn’t see there was a big difference between just getting together and being married. Someone should have told me that relationships are like an English Breakfast of eggs and bacon. The chicken is involved, but the pig is committed.
Before I met Jules, I’d prayed to have a girlfriend to connect with, get to know, kiss, cuddle and share experiences with, but instead of being grateful and savouring every moment, I wanted more and didn’t appreciate the gift I had been given.
* * *
Jules – Legacy
The first song I ever wrote was based on what happened with Jules. It was called Johnny Talked to Sue and told the story of a woman going out with a disabled man and her parents stopping her. It’s not a good song particularly, but interesting that I chose that subject matter as the first thing I wanted to sing about.
The other legacy of this experience was from then on, I was always nervous about meeting my partner’s parents. Sometimes I would get on very well with them, but even so, I saw them as a possible barrier.
* * *
The Last Words
A year later I got a letter from Jules in which she said she just wanted to talk with someone, and I was the only one she could talk to openly, but still, she thought it better not to reply. She also asked me not to forget her.
We did speak once more, a year or so later, on the phone. I don’t remember much of what was said but I felt awkward. There was so much I wanted to say, but I could no longer remember what exactly the words were, so all that came out was rubbish.
Now, though, 38 years later, there are two things I want to end this chapter with. One was something I wrote to Jules in one of my last letters to her and it made me laugh when I found it the other day, it was this:
“One day, if either of us is famous and ‘This Is Your Life’ does a programme on one of us, I will greet you and cuddle you for so long that I’ll only let go once your husband punches me.”
And the other thing I wanted to say, is, of course, I will never forget you.
* * *
1982 – Retail Therapy
I stood in WH Smiths in Wallington High Street, looking for a record to buy. One cover caught my eye. It was completely red except for a thin light blue strip on one edge. It was the Dire Straits album Making Movies. I looked at the song list and there were only seven tracks listed, but I recognised one as a pretty song I’d heard on the radio called Romeo and Juliet. I thought I’d give it a try and bought it.
When I got home, I put it on the turntable in the lounge. No one else was in. The afternoon sun filled the room, so I cranked up the volume and sat back. By the eighth minute of the first track, I realised that there was more to life than boy meets girl, and art and beauty can touch us to the depths too. But then, by the end of the second track, I was reminded that relationships are very much at the core of my meaning and happiness.
In under 15 minutes, I’d taken a ride to another world and returned holding a tiny but invaluable piece of emotional understanding. I was blown away. Suddenly the music went off. I opened my eyes. John had come in and switched the HiFi off.
“It’s a bit loud Simon!” He said, his irritation was palpable, “Are you deaf?” He scratched his head vigorously for a second.
However, like a kid caught smoking marijuana I wasn’t quite in the zone, so instead of arguing back, I said. “You should try it. It’s amazing.”
But he didn’t.
* * *
Theatre – Musical Outro
[Lights fade up]
Simon is standing under a streetlight on the left of the stage.
Jules is on her balcony. She doesn’t look towards Simon.
On the right of the stage, a spotlight appears.
Mark Knopfler walks on with a big silver National Guitar.
He performs Romeo and Juliet.
Both Jules and Simon listen to it.
[Lights Fade down]
* * *
2021 – Jules
Since getting back in contact with Jules, we still message each other a few times a year, and soon after writing this chapter, we chatted for over an hour on a video call. After all these years there was still that easy-going, chatty connection we’d had right at the beginning.
* * *
