Young Love and Love in Later Life

Falling in love is an incredible feeling, a roller coaster ride of infatuation, lust, raging hormones, an explosion of desires to rip the clothes off their bodies and make sweet endless love. However, falling in love for the first time is the most captivating experience leaving a person spellbound by the universe magic. Days are filled with daydreaming, floating in space and romanticising how you are going to end up happily ever after. As every second passes you are completely enraptured to the point of being dizzy and wildly alive.

My first love was intense. He was tall, dark and handsome with a rasta gangsta surfy vibe. His smile was warm while his energy screamed sexy warrior god. When I was in his presence, he made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t barely speak. I was so in awe of this greatness. How heavens blessed him with so many divine qualities. Under his cool exterior laid a talented musician, a passionate artist with a wise spiritual soft soul. His outer persona was so very confidant, extremely charming and very naughty. I believed we were perfect for each other, and it was enteral. 

We were both very young, 15 or 16, and went to the same crazy alternative school for misfits and outlaws. Our school, Metro College, only had 30 odd students, a mixture of punks, musicians, artist and gangsta’s. It was a last resort school as no other school would have our rebellious asses. The students mostly sat around jamming, playing instruments, making art, doing photography or debating like little philosophical munchkins. When we weren’t in class, we could be found down at the local park smoking weed in the bushes or getting drunk under the old wooden church.

He and I would sneak off to old church was where we would climb underneath to kiss and grope one another while swigging down cheap booze. It was there we had our first sexual romp. Being both very young and inexperienced it was fast and quick but thrilling and electric. Somehow, we would encourage the most outrageous behaviour in one another, yet it still felt like youthful innocent rebellion. So much about him was intoxicating, our paths had a weird divine synchronicity. Similar misfortunes, similar beliefs, similar crazy family dynamics. From the moment I first saw him my heart and soul belonged to him. I was madly in love, and I truly wanted this homie to be mine forever.

The last time I saw him was when I was when I just turned 18 and we were on a beautiful white sandy beach. He was tenderly kissing me as he held me in his arms. I felt so safe when in his arms, his cuddles were always gentle but strong. During this particular weekend away at the beach we had mad crazy sex in a bunk on a cabin by the ocean. I wanted to drive him crazy and pound my pussy against his hard cock, be the best fuck he ever had. For hours we fucked like crazed tantra sex gurus with passion so heated it would make a street ho0ker blush. And then again, the next morning followed with more intense sex on the soft sand dunes of the beach. I vividly remember all my frothy cum dripping off his hard cock. That was the last time I saw him, late April 1993. But for years after I would dream of him and wonder what happened to him.

Love in Later Life

Where do I start with this one?

Well, midway through the first year of COVID I started to reach out to people via online communication after being so deprived of face to face, human contact. I began messaging old friends, ex boyfriends, married men on dating affair websites and even started to write to men who were in prison. COVID lockdown and a bad marriage had left me feeling vulnerable and lonely.

After reaching out to an old boyfriend and speaking everyday our connection grew intimately. The old feeling had flooded back, and I began to think that we were meant to be together. After 12 months I was all in and ready to plan a future with him. That was until I found out he started a new relationship. I was totally blindsided and had been played. The heartache didn’t last long as sensibility and logic ruled. The blatant fact spoke volumes, he was a narcissist the first time around and nothing much had changed. I was just emotionally fragile and ripe for his manipulation and dribble.

What followed next was an online dating with a married man for nine months. This was exhilarating, I felt desirable and alive again after decades of a marriage with no real intimacy. This man was kind, understanding and gave me the attention I had been seeking. But the reality was that this was just an online affair, and whist real, there is a factor of fantasy and escapism. Just lust and loneliness and not love.

Covid also had me connecting with prison pen pals via emails. The very first pen pal was dark, full of self-loathing and regret. Emails were rare and mostly talked about missing his partner and inner darkness. He was very withdrawn and didn’t really have too much to say. 

I eventually sent a letter via post with a picture of me in it and a question about who he was which he didn’t answer. He wanted to know what I looked like, so I sent him a photo of me smiling. This did not help the frequency of our communications, actually emails became less, I gathered he didn’t like the way I looked. However, being very determined I kept up my writing and just swamped him with my ramblings of daily life in the UK, my online affairs in detail and also about my marriage woes. Afterall, COVID had given me so much free time that writing was therapeutic. 

After about six months and his transfer to another prison we started to connect more, our desire to be loved. He began to open up to me as we had so much in common. I looked him up on Facebook and he was tall, dark and handsome. Emails became weekly and the flirtation grew. He asked for an orchid petal painting, a painted print of my pussy, and other titillating photos to aid self-pleasure. In return, for my birthday he drew me a picture that totally blew my mind away, it oozed with love. He is very creative and talented. Things began to heat up between us and feelings were overwhelming. My horny, sex starved inmate was seducing me, and I was getting swept away. Inside I was stirring, there was a certain serendipity to our connection. He now wanted to hear my voice, so I agreed to having my telephone number approved. The first two calls were fast as my number originally got declined so he asked to call me from the office. But once it was approved, we had our first proper conversation after 11 months of being pen pals.

I cried afterwards. For four days I was in agony, I had strange feeling grow inside of me. How could this happen. This is totally insane! What were these strange feelings that I have? So, I looked at his Facebook profile again. Huh, those eyes look a little familiar. So, I sent him an email and asked him the same question I asked him in my first postal letter “did you go to Metro College?”. Two night later he called and said “yes, it’s me”. Holy moly, it is my first young love.


The more open and honest you are with me

The better I function

I flow with the energy

Hidden demon and mistrust just builds walls

I accept truth, ponder the dynamics, food for thought

A tool for growth

Misleading will conjure doubt

Doubt will block the path given to us by our universe

The natural course with bring good fortune

Just be honest with me


The people closest to me are the ones who have hurt me the most, caused the most emotional and physical damage. I imagine that’s the same for some people.

Tonight I had a flashback of an incident involving my father abusing us, verbally threatening to kill me or one of my siblings when we were younger. He was beating the living daylights out of our mother. His anger was overwhelming and we were all crying. For some reason every Saturday morning he would rage, smashing up the house while violently assaulting our mother. We would hide in our rooms in our beds and under the blankets. The abuse would go on for hours and be relentless.

One particular Saturday morning after hours of screaming and hearing objects being thrown around the house breaking against the walls he summoned us children. I can not recall why but we all stood there in his bedroom petrified while he yelled and screamed and told us – promised us – that one day he will kill one of us. This was said such overwhelming conviction, so convincingly it was hard not to believe him. I stood there numb wondering which one of us was going to die by his hands.

Looking over at my father while completely scared a moment of realisation came over me. The threat was hauntingly real and it was then I realised he never really loved us. We meant nothing to him at all. There was no love just hate and anger. My parents do not love me and never have. Their lack of love has had a profound effect on my self worth as an adult. I’ve never felt anyone could love me because I’m not worthy. Deep sadness swallows my heart up until it’s rock hard.

Love evades me.

Where is my sensibility?

Sitting in my room, the energy is still with a touch of gloom. Pondering why my bedroom has just me in it with no husband or lover.

My marriage has morphed into a passionless friendship. Therefore, I’m immersed with fantasises where someone will want me as their muse, their confidante and paramour.

I offer a sensual touch of a spirited goddess, the warm embrace of a kind hearted soul. I stand strong with inner and outer beauty. Exude an unique nature which is alluring, that will light up the darkest of stormy nights.

Yet I have been caught in a web. Created by narcissist for his own self pleasure. My lonely empty room is a reminder. I am addicted to the lies and deceit which my online lovers spins me. Unable to escape and constantly wanting more.

Sensibility eludes me, my mind evades me. I need to be kind to myself and set myself free so real love can come forth.