Memories...at the corners of my mind

This posting is a bit of a re-write from March of 2005 - but sometimes these memories continue to fuel other inspirations.

Whenever I listen to Roxy Music, I am reminded of my very first 'adult' affair/fling. It was with one of my former English teachers, Mike.

(NO! NOT while I was a student - however he probably would have had I pursued it...)

Back when I was about 19 years old, I had to move back home - go back to my father's house after a stint out in the world on my own. It was not a comfortable 'fit' but I had no where else, at the time, to go and I was able to somewhat keep my 'identity' my father being a wise man and letting me come and go as I pleased. At one point, during this time, there was a man who came back into my life - actually because he had run into my sister one day and asked after me, she in turn gave me his phone number and I of course rang him up. He was a former English teacher at my former high school. He knew me during school because at one point, I took his science fiction class. He was an average teacher, but possessed a great mind. I did not know he was also an accomplished guitarist and very into music. I was astounded at his record collection it was literally hundreds and hundreds of albums. When he asked me if I wanted to hear some music, I almost felt it was a trick question because it was impossible to know just what he had in this massive collection and I had a feeling no matter what I asked to him to 'put on' he'd own it - so instead he put on some Roxy Music. I was also astounded the first time he pulled out his 12-string acoustic guitar and played a perfect rendition of Led Zeppelin's Over the Hills and Far Away.

The next day, we got together and went to the park to play frisbee with his 'dorky' friend who was still a teacher. Mike had left teaching (after being totally disillusioned by the whole farce) and had become an insurance claims adjuster. We played frisbee and I impressed both of them by my ability to throw the disc so far. After that we went our separate ways and I went back to Mike's house for a little while. He began to make romantic overtures towards me. Since I had always been attracted to this man (all the girls in our school were). I did not deny him or myself this pleasure. It was only a kiss but the kiss carried quite a bit of passion, it was electric.

He rolled us a joint and we began to talk of many things; all a seeming prelude to starting a 'relationship'. He asked me at one point if I had ever read any mythologies besides the Greek and Roman taught in school. I told him I had begun to 'study' a bit of the Celtic mythologies, and he seemed pleased. He then gave me a copy of the Welsh Mabinogion Tetralogy by Evangeline Walton, he told me to read it and let him know what I thought.

He then launched into an explanation of his 'situation',it seemed that he was living with his 'girlfriend' but that they were trying to sort out whether or not they should get married. He said they had both agreed to let each other 'date' so that they could be sure about things. Keep in mind this was the 70s, things like this did happen (things like this happen today as well but most people aren't up front about it) - I was young and I was a bit naieve but I did not feel I was being lied to or used. He even offered to let me talk to his girlfriend; I knew of her; she also attended our school and she graduated a year ahead of me. I had a feeling they had met back then. I remember her being a gorgeous strawberry-blonde girl. After our talk he got us each a glass of wine and we smoked a bit and I left.

I began reading the Welsh Mythology. I was very caught up in the 'story'. The books were well done, well researched and yet you felt like you were 'there' it was all quite thrilling really.

I agreed to see my old English teacher with an understanding. No strings attached. The MINUTE one of us felt like we were falling in love we had to end things. Secondly if he was going to 'see' me it had to be exclusive - I did not want to play 'sloppy thirds' as it were - I could understand him sleeping with the girl he was living with but I was not in the mood for fullfilling *his* 'Hugh Hefner' fantasy.

We began to date. Our first 'formal' date involved going to a place in Little Italy that no longer exists (Teresa's) - the food was exquisite as was the bottle of wine. By the time we got to his car he could barely keep his hands off of me - we got back to his place and nearly ripped eache other's clothes off. The love-making session that followed was incredible...

I began to read the part of the Mabinogion dealing with Rhiannon (the Goddess) and her human lover Pwyll, just as things began to really get intense between us sexually. Intense is an understatement - I explored with this man like I have never done before (or since). At one point in our lovemaking he called me Rhiannon. I actually felt like a Goddess-incarnate. I know it sounds 'crazy' but somehow it wasn't. I was flattered and frightened at the same time. Our following time together was even more intense, bordering on almost dangerous in the sense that we kept pushing the boundaries further and further with each other; he told me he was falling in love with me.

I called him the next day to say good-bye...

Several years ago, I saw my old teacher/lover in Hunan Restaurant on Coventry. (And yes the song that was playing in the back of my mind was Paul Simon's Still Crazy After All These Years. I had gone in to pick up food and he was waiting to be seated. We looked each other right in the eyes. He knew me but didn't acknowledge me at all, probably because his wife (the woman he did end up marrying was the woman he had been living with at the time),was sitting there. He had not changed – she had. No longer was she the stunning young woman I remembered. I kind of felt sad. I walked out of the restaurant after paying for my 'take out'.

I think about him now and think about the passion and the intense heat of sexual power and being Rhiannon and becoming Colette it seems only the names have changed. But there's no innocence involved. There's a wisdom born of life, of love, and of dancing near the fire.