A Strange and Beautiful Thing

After all the hurt and heartache I had been through, my friendship with Dale was really a gift.  We spent many, many hours on the phone, philosophising about life and love.  We talked about everything, especially spirituality.  He was very spiritual, and after my spiritual upbringing, he was the second person in my life who had become a spiritual guide.  It was so good to be loved.  He would call me every day, and we would talk for hours.  There were no cordless phones back then, and I would sit in the laundry in the flat for hours on end talking to Dale.  We got on so well.  The only problem was, he was so far away.  I longed to touch him and be with him.  It was a good thing in a way, because our relationship was based on friendship first, rather than sex like most of my other relationships had started with.

Finally after weeks and weeks talking on the phone, he finally made the decision to come and see me.  The problem with Dale, is that he was married to his job, and there was nothing more important than work.  His work meant everything to him, even more than a potential love.  He couldn’t have any time off, so he literally flew in for the weekend.  Even though he had sent a photo, I was thrilled when I saw him.  He was a big man, a little overweight, but masculine and sexy.  He was very hairy and smelt so good.  He swept me off my feet.  I spoilt me rotten.  He took me out to dinner, wined and dined me, and looked after me.  One evening, at a fancy restauraunt, I was telling him that my favourite cigarettes were Dunhill blues, but I couldn’t afford them as they were so expensive.  He jumped up from the table, and within moments had about 6 packets there!!  He would do really generous things like that.

Making love to him was strange.  When he orgasmed he would have like an epileptic fit.  Throwing his body around, it was very scarey.  He loved having sex, and the second weekend he came to see me, we pretty much spent the entire time in bed.  I was quite cranky, as he said how sick he was, too sick to walk on the beach, or go anywhere, but not too sick to fuck all day. Typical bloke.  It was on this second visit, that he claimed that he could only ever be with me on weekends.  He also travelled constantly and was never home.  When planning our wonderful future together, all I could see was intense lonliness, living in some flash house in the city, with him constantly away.  I told him that as much as I cared for him and it broke my heart, we couldn’t ever be together permanently.  That was the end of that.  We somehow got over that, and he was one of the best friends I ever had for around 6 years after.  We then had a huge disagreement in regards to my little sister (yes, he also slept with her like most of my other men in my life), she turned him against me, and we have never spoken again.  Sad but true.

As our friendship blossomed, I once again found another man to torment me.  He was absolutely the best looking man I have ever been with.  Tall, dark, handsome, olive skin and a body to die for.  His name was Troy, and I’ll tell you about him next time.

Advertisement