Somewhere Only We Know

I remember my oldest schoolfriend and her teenage lover.

They sometimes had huge rows which would end with one of them walking out. But they always had their ‘safe spot’. They had agreed, right at the beginning of their relationship that, if ever it all went wrong and they fell out big time, they would meet on their anniversary under the railway bridge close to the station, the place that they first met.

It was a highly combustible partnership. He was a very good looking guy who got lots of female attention. She was attractive, although not necessarily in the fashionable way of those days. What drew him to her was her vivacious personality and the fact that she didn’t follow him around like a puppy dog waiting for him to screw her. She made him work for it… and it was something that he just wasn’t used to.

They were young and energetic. He had had lots of women but he was her first. He took her virginity and he loved that fact. I can remember her telling me some of the less vanilla (obviously I didn’t know that term then) things that they did together. I was flabbergasted and shocked to hear the tale of the empty wine bottle and had no concept of how inserting such an item into one’s vagina could possibly be anything other than dangerous!

Sadly, as time went on, he wanted sex more and more and she wanted it less and less because, whilst it was adventurous, he just didn’t seem to be able to make her come. She said she got more pleasure out of eating an apple.

Being that type of man and the recipient of so many other offers, he strayed and, of course, she found out.

So, after a particuarly spectacular bust-up, she threw him out and refused to speak to him again.

But neither of them could quite attain the same level of thrill in their subsequent couplings. The flamboyant rows, the physical arguments and the exciting passionate reunions were the lifeblood of their relationship.

And that’s why, six months’ later, they were both under that bridge at 3pm on a cold wintry January afternoon.

It couldn’t last, of course. There was too much against them. She was maturing far faster than he ever could or would. She just outgrew him.

The following January, she stayed resolutely huddled against a radiator, wrapping herself in her duvet as she sobbed for her lost innocence and the boy she had to leave behind.

.

Ruf and I were talking about this and where we would choose to meet. We think we may have agreed on inside the penis of the fertility giant at Cerne Abbas on the anniversary of the day we first fucked – 21 January at about 3pm.

Thing is that we don’t tend to have major rows and we really do try to communicate with each other if we are upset.  So, hopefully, this won’t be necessary.

It’s nice to know that there is a Plan B tho :)

Do you have a ‘somewhere only we know’ fail-safe for if/when it all goes tits up?