Men and birthdays don’t go well together in my experience, not that I have much.
Experience of the two together I mean. And I’ve also had more birthdays than men, but that’s not really relevant.
But as I celebrated my birthday some days ago, I remembered a past encounter.
I had a ‘boyfriend’. So to speak, as he was married and definitely not a boy, and I was single, and in my twenties.
Pause from the anecdote to talk about affairs, I mean sex, with married men…
1) Do not even start with any criticism about my lack of morals. I was not married. He was. Is this clear?
2) Anyone who thinks that if a (single) woman refuses to sleep with a married man, that he will forthwith lead a blamefree and unadulterous life is seriously deluded. Absolutely and utterly certifiable.
3) Because, someone who is married and wants extra-marital sex, will find it wherever.
4) Truism number one. Yes, they really do say, ‘My wife doesn’t understand me.’
5) Truism number two. Yes, they really do say, ‘I don’t get enough sex.’
6) Truism number three. Yes, it is always the woman’s fault for seducing that poor weak corruptible man.
7) And finally, there is no way that you can deny the fact that you get some sort of kick out of this. In our patriarchal society the fact that you are SO sexy, SO irresistible, SO desirable that you can lead a man astray, just does wonders for your standing. You are sophisticated, worldly, hot beyond belief.
Right, back to the story……
The good thing about having sex with a married man, is that there is no commitment. You are the bit on the side, some fun, as and when appropriate or convenient (for both of you). Most of your time together is taken up with sex (obviously), eating and sleeping out (in nice hotels, usually on a company account), and maybe a few idle sort of dates – driving round the countryside or visiting a museum. Nothing heavy. No drudgery. No boredom. A few intense ‘phone calls or passionate letters (well, on his part anyway).
But remember. The obvious one to remember, is ‘DO NOT BELIEVE HIM’. Oops sorry for shouting. It is fairly obvious though that if he is cheating on his wife, then he is a lying git and would do the same to you. So, keeping our wits about us, when they come out with guff about how they absolutely love us to bits, wish they had met us sooner, think about us all the time, blah blah boring blah. Just remember that it is guff. ‘Do not believe him.’ Stay calm, and in control.
When he comes to visit you on your birthday, bearing a radio that you didn’t want as a present, start to be suspicious. A radio that isn’t even in a box because he dealt in stolen goods. Regardless of the fact that he brings you a rather ugly unboxed radio, drag him into a local city and make him buy you some nice gold and coral earrings. I still have them, although I can’t remember the last time I wore them, not really my style any more and they would be hidden by my long hair.
But start to think. This guy has bought you a ‘present’ for your birthday. It is not remotely what you want. It is not remotely ‘romantic.’ And, as an irrelevancy, it happened to be nicked (I assumed later, maybe I am doing him an injustice but he did end up on trial at Crown Court for fencing stolen goods).
And when he walks out of the door, and you say goodbye as he goes back to wifey, you see the look on his face, and you know it’s over.
I thought it would be the last time I saw him, but it wasn’t.
Some weeks, or maybe a month or two later, I was going to a camping exhibition and he was staying somewhere near. Can’t even remember why he got in touch again. But anyway I visited his hotel.
I’d got up earlyish, ie 7am or so, had breakfast, and set off on the road, driving an hour plus. Reached reception and asked for him by name. ‘Just go on up to his room,’ said the receptionist. Ha ti ha. Should have twigged then, shouldn’t I?
Needless to state, he was still lying around in bed, and quickly started doing a few supposedly sexy gyrations. We had a brief chat and he asked me to get into bed with him.
‘No thanks,’ I said (or words to that effect) and walked out of the door without a backward glance, feeling like a clichéed film star. Or at least hoping I looked vaguely like one.
And that really was the last time I saw him.
A few more details for any of you who want the not remotely lurid trivia.
We actually first got in touch over the ‘phone and he had a sexy voice. He wasn’t particularly sexy when I met him, but by then we had both got too sucked into it. I guess the ‘phone was the precursor of internet contacts.
His wife at some point obviously got hold of his little black book and rang me. Except I was in Australia at the time and my parents answered. Probably helped contribute towards my father’s infamous comment some years later accusing me of ‘trashing around’.
This is not a bitter post. I have no bad feelings towards him. I have no feelings towards him. It is so long ago, he was fun at the time, and I knew what I was getting into. I thought it would be interesting to share the anecdote and reflect on the way society judges ‘scarlet woman who seduces married man’. (Yuk)
And, because I have said this to some people via email, if my partner chooses to have sex with another woman, then no, I do not think it is her fault. She is not some immoral whore while he is a poor innocent victimised man. He has the choice to say ‘No’. ‘No’ is not difficult. If I can say it, so can he. ‘No’ is as easy as ‘Yes’.
Oh and back to the original point of the post about men and birthdays. I don’t think in my youth that I ever managed to sustain a relationship long enough to last until my birthday. All the other girls at school seemed to manage endless relationships with boring boys and proudly showed off their birthday presents. I on the other hand, managed to lose the boring boys before my birthday, or before Valentine’s day, or before Christmas. Always lost out on the accompanying status presents.
And what happened when I did get one? A nicked radio.
So there is a lesson there. A man who treats your birthday like crap is a man not worth bothering with. (Married or not).