Michelle

As fortune would have it, a few months after I move off the Woy Woy peninsula to East Gosford, I wind up meeting someone from Woy Woy. Michelle was a bolt right out of the blue. I had met her whilst we were doing a retail training course, which I was drafted into after completing Open Foundation (a preparatory university course) at the Ourimbah campus of Newcastle University.

She was so sweet, and I could easily say that I fell in love with her straight away. We got to talking during the lunch break, and I soon discovered that she was a fan of the Young Ones. The next day, I had a script of one of the episodes printed up for her. She squeezed me so hard I nearly burst.

I did ask her out, using a recent poem that I had written. She agreed and I even made the trip over from East Gosford on our day off. We talked about a lot of things, and I soon learnt she had had a rough time of it at late, having the misfortune to having lived beside some really demented neighbours, and having a sadistic ex-boyfriend. She lived in fear that he was going to come back and hurt her and her two kids, Katie and James.

She had a fascination for scars and tattoos. The former I have quite a few of, but the latter I have none, I'm just not interested in decorating my body with slogans or pictures, seeing they look quite tragic when one gets older, but don't mind them on other people. She has a pair of dolphins on her abdomen and a frangipani on her right shoulder. 

Despite her sweet demeanour, and her child like charms, I eventually discovered that she had a dark side. When she becomes extremely frustrated, she would get into a really dark mood, becoming paranoid and suicidal. It was frightening some times to see her like this, and she was impressed in her saner moments that I still stuck around after I had experienced one of her bleak moods.

But, despite her kids warming to me, a more permanent relationship between us never developed. Sure, we had been over to each other's places quite often, and had even slept over on a number of occasions, but nothing eventuated. She was really scared of a starting a relationship again, considering so many men had been cruel to her in the past. Her kids though knew I wasn't like these other men she had been with, and her son on one occasion even called me “dad” and told me that she loved me, which she never personally acknowledged.

When she moved up to Newcastle in 2006, I'd thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong. There was a letter or two, usually months apart, even a phone call, then later SMS messages once I had acquired a mobile phone. But by the spring of 2007 the communication stopped altogether.

Half a year would pass before I heard from her again, strangely enough around Valentine's day. It was a real surprise. A couple of weeks ago she turned up on my doorstep, as if nothing had ever happened. The kids had changed, but she hadn't. I found myself mesmerised by her smile and laugh once more, but at the same time sceptical that she had made a sudden reappearance in my life. A week later she invites me to a fancy dress party at her place. Knowing what little of a social life I have, I agreed to go, which made her happy indeed. 

As for the party, well, let's just say I wish I hadn't had gone. I think now I can close this chapter of the book.