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29 July 2005 at 13:55

age 20 - foreign affair

Hotboy has been badgering me to post the dramatic old black-and-white photograph of a Teutonic ex-girlfriend. But after hunting everywhere for it today, I realise that I must have thrown it out in my last big clearout. Oops! Just when I finally have a use for it!

Never mind. I had already decided that it wouldn't be ethical to blog the whole story alongside a picture that would identify her. But now that the photo is lost, I'm free to tell all. Like the proverb says: for every door that closes behind you, another one opens up.

I was a bombed-out student working as a machine-minder in a factory in small-town Germany. One of the young women who sorted nuts and bolts had striking long red hair and a knowing smile. I got chatting, and it turned out that she had just split up with her fiancé, whose name was robmcj, just like me. Or Rob von J in German. We seemed to get on well, though it was only much later that I found out that my main qualification in her eyes was my name. And I confess I wasn't too interested in her personality either.

She agreed to visit me in my tiny rented attic room. Well, I had been chaste, platonic, monastic, sobrietic, celebratious, what is the correct word I'm looking for? Anyway, I hadn't had sex for a year. So within a short space of time we were in my bed and within an even shorter space of time I was "overcome" if you know what I mean. Understandably, she wasn't pleased, and a few days later her family were threatening a shotgun marriage.

She and I would meet daily at the factory, mainly to discuss pregnancy matters. At weekends we would get together in the back seat of her car, and she would use her hands, if you know what I mean (I'm not sure about Blogger's policy in this area) while she kept up a conversation with her mates sitting in the front seat, quite a skill I suppose. I wonder what they were talking about.

If you read age 17, windswept and interviewed, you may notice an audience-participation theme in my early development. What does this mean?

When the pregnancy test finally happened and was negative, I became celibate (that's the word I was looking for) again, for a long time. Eventually I returned to Scotland, to begin discovering the true version of that proverb. For every door that closes behind you, another slams shut in your face.

Blogger hotboy said...

It's one faux pas after another, Adolf! Anyway, you could have posted a photie of any fraulein in a brownshirt and them hosen and I'd have been quite happy! Hotboy  

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Blogger hotboy said...

Frankly, Adolf, this is getting slighlty beyond the bounds of good taste. But I think I can now see which fetish we're supposed to be following. Thank god for that!  

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Blogger Heather said...

And to think Hotboy chastized ME for using foul language. I was just cussing indiscriminately. Hope my mom -- or your mom for that matter is not reading this...

or on second thought...  

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Blogger robmcj said...

Hotboy. "Good taste". What's that?

Heather. I thought I was being ultra-discreet.

H and H. Are you guys just pretending to be shocked? Now I'm hesitating about whether to go ahead with my next story, the strip poker one. It's very tasteful in my opinion, but perhaps not in yours.  

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Blogger mireille said...

funny, very funny. great use of fantasy. heh. Is it ok if we call you Dieter rather than Adolf? Adolf has such unsavory connotations. And Dieter sounds more like Rob. xoxo  

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Blogger Heather said...

Being a prude is the best role I can act ;).  

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Blogger robmcj said...

Mireille, I'm with you regarding Dieter. Hotboy comes from a land where they're still fighting WW II, and anyone with a German connection is seen as fair game. I got used to it when I was at school. 50 years from now, they'll be calling all muslims Osama. You sound like a nice person. Is that Bonnie Prince Charlie on your icon?

Heather - has your mum been here yet? Maybe she'd be too embarrassed to say. Have you explained to your mother why there's a rooster in a tutu exposing himself to a minor on your icon?  

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