‘I love the smell of your hair.
It makes me think of long nights without sleep, listening to the waves break on the sand.
You loved that little cottage, the squeaky bed and the open fire.
The old bloke who owned it wondered why I wanted to rent it in the middle of winter, then he looked at my old Austin, with you sitting in the passenger seat and he just smiled at me. The kind of smile that ‘men of the world’ exchange. Nothing sleazy, just a look that said he understood. I thought that he could see how embarrassed I was, but his gentle smile made me relax. He was three times my age and I felt like I had joined an exclusive club.
I felt like a grown up for the first time.
I’d fumbled around with girls, the way that young people do. I’d even caused a bit of pleasure. I could be gentle and patient and it got results, but this was different.
This was going to be five days with one woman.
Not just sex but genuine love-making, and nowhere to hide if it all went wrong.
We barely stepped outside that little cottage except to walk on the beach.’
‘I must have changed shampoos a dozen times since that week at the beach house.’
‘I don’t care, I still love the smell of your hair.’
‘You can’t do this now ———- Too many years have gone by. You had your chance to cherish me. I spent a long time getting over you; no, they’re the wrong words —- I never got over you and it is grossly unfair of you to stir up those old memories. We both have families now.’
‘I know we do, but I also know that I made a mistake. I should have stayed with you. You were, and are, the best thing that ever happened to me. I think of you when I make love to my wife, hell, I think of you when i make love to myself. You are all I ever think about.’
‘You’re too late Frank. You can smell my hair all you want but you missed the boat. I’m too good for you.’
‘I’ll bet I make you moist’.
‘Yes you do but that’s not the point.
You don’t get to enjoy any of this.
I’m with him now.
I’m not some old favourite toy that you can leave lying around and expect me to be in the same place when you get around to looking for me again.
I moved on.
There isn’t anyone on the planet who I would rather make love to than you but I’m just going to have to control the urge because you are not good for me Frank.
The heart wants what the heart wants but my head knows what’s good for me, and it isn’t you.
So get your nose out of my hair before someone notices.’
Poster from a painting by Jack Vettriano.