This is an instalment of an autobiographical series. See right for more information.
I had an idea that a year was all it would take, that at the end of the year Sam would move on. After all, what was in it for her?
But as the year wore on, I started to lose hope. The situation was almost more than I could bear. Not only did I have to share Frog with Sam one night a week, but the three of us went out together – to concerts, parties, pubs, on day trips - and Sam came on holiday with us for a week.
I found Sam difficult to get on with, not because she was a difficult person but because we were so different. We had no crossover points except for Frog. And I was wary of her too because of what I saw as my frivolity and lack of intelligence compared with her. I was always trying not to say something stupid.
She was thoughtful though.
I knew she'd had an AIDS test before taking up with Frog, which was not an easy thing to do, and I greatly appreciated it.
One Thursday night as Frog made ready to leave, wind began to shake the house. Sam rang and told Frog that because of the weather he ought to stay with me and make sure I was OK. So he did.
Another time the three of us went to a concert and I was in the bar talking to a friend when Frog came out of the concert hall and dragged me off by the arm saying that the music was about to begin. Sam restrained him.
‘Oy,’ she said. ‘She was talking.’
Frog looked slightly shamefaced.
Sometimes I went over to Sam’s house on my own but that was uncomfortable because I presumed her housemates knew about Frog and her and me and I didn’t want their pity.
Frog and I smoked cannabis in the evenings – with Sam and her connections we had plenty of access to the stuff. We thought it would calm us down, lift some of my inhibitions. Which it did up to a point.
But one night, when Frog was with Sam and I was in bed on my own, I woke to a vision of two men in the corner of the bedroom. They were plotting something very evil.
One Thursday night as Frog made ready to leave, wind began to shake the house. Sam rang and told Frog that because of the weather he ought to stay with me and make sure I was OK. So he did.
Another time the three of us went to a concert and I was in the bar talking to a friend when Frog came out of the concert hall and dragged me off by the arm saying that the music was about to begin. Sam restrained him.
‘Oy,’ she said. ‘She was talking.’
Frog looked slightly shamefaced.
Sometimes I went over to Sam’s house on my own but that was uncomfortable because I presumed her housemates knew about Frog and her and me and I didn’t want their pity.
Frog and I smoked cannabis in the evenings – with Sam and her connections we had plenty of access to the stuff. We thought it would calm us down, lift some of my inhibitions. Which it did up to a point.
But one night, when Frog was with Sam and I was in bed on my own, I woke to a vision of two men in the corner of the bedroom. They were plotting something very evil.
I imagined it was some sort of crossed line (like you used to get with landlines and found you were listening in to a conversation that was nothing to do with you) and knew I had to stay very still and not be afraid because if they sensed my presence I would be in grave danger.
So that’s what I did and they went away.
I was proud of myself.
Often I couldn’t eat, and weight fell off me.
Even the postman noticed. He stopped as he passed me in his van one day when I was out walking in the lane and asked me if I was all right.
‘You look ghastly,’ said my mother. ‘You really ought to wear more makeup.’
Frog brought me regular packets of Cadbury’s chocolate eggs to keep my strength up.
I fell in love with someone else and had feverish daydreams about our possible relationship - which of course came to nothing as I didn’t actually want it to.
Frog didn’t tell anyone what was going on, as far as I was aware, and the only people I told were my two sisters and a friend whom I used to meet for lunch once a week in Exeter. She listened to my outpourings with sympathy and kept them to herself. I don’t think she even told her husband.
The story was complicated and people were so quick to lay blame. They thought in stereotypes, in tabloid headlines: one was the guilty party and one was the victim. But it wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t want people to think badly of Frog and I was ashamed of my failings which, in my opinion, had led to the situation. That was why I kept quiet.
I thought about leaving Frog, but again it was only a dream. Where would I go? What would I do? This was my life. I couldn’t envisage any other. And what about the blue-sky voice – the one that said Frog would interest me for the rest of my life?
One evening after Christmas, Frog arrived home in a whirl. Sam had taken up with one of her housemates and wanted to end her relationship with Frog. Without saying much to me he raced over to her house to persuade her differently.
I knew I was in trouble. Was Sam laying down a challenge? Could I end up losing Frog completely?
I abandoned all my scruples and rang Sam’s house at frequent intervals throughout the evening. Sometimes I managed to speak to Frog, sometimes I didn’t.
I needed to make my feelings absolutely clear. I mattered. I didn’t want to lose him.
He crawled back in the early hours of the morning.
Often I couldn’t eat, and weight fell off me.
Even the postman noticed. He stopped as he passed me in his van one day when I was out walking in the lane and asked me if I was all right.
‘You look ghastly,’ said my mother. ‘You really ought to wear more makeup.’
Frog brought me regular packets of Cadbury’s chocolate eggs to keep my strength up.
I fell in love with someone else and had feverish daydreams about our possible relationship - which of course came to nothing as I didn’t actually want it to.
Frog didn’t tell anyone what was going on, as far as I was aware, and the only people I told were my two sisters and a friend whom I used to meet for lunch once a week in Exeter. She listened to my outpourings with sympathy and kept them to herself. I don’t think she even told her husband.
The story was complicated and people were so quick to lay blame. They thought in stereotypes, in tabloid headlines: one was the guilty party and one was the victim. But it wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t want people to think badly of Frog and I was ashamed of my failings which, in my opinion, had led to the situation. That was why I kept quiet.
I thought about leaving Frog, but again it was only a dream. Where would I go? What would I do? This was my life. I couldn’t envisage any other. And what about the blue-sky voice – the one that said Frog would interest me for the rest of my life?
One evening after Christmas, Frog arrived home in a whirl. Sam had taken up with one of her housemates and wanted to end her relationship with Frog. Without saying much to me he raced over to her house to persuade her differently.
I knew I was in trouble. Was Sam laying down a challenge? Could I end up losing Frog completely?
I abandoned all my scruples and rang Sam’s house at frequent intervals throughout the evening. Sometimes I managed to speak to Frog, sometimes I didn’t.
I needed to make my feelings absolutely clear. I mattered. I didn’t want to lose him.
He crawled back in the early hours of the morning.
He’d lost. Sam was gone.
To be continued . . .
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