I'm Not in Love

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

I’m not in Love

By

10CC – 1975.

1975 was to see a lot of changes in my life. Nothing to make headline news but quite dramatic in some areas on a personal level. I continued to teach my mixed-age classes in the annexe and became more interested in the school sports’ teams. I organised my first regional Netball tournament involving around ten schools and managed to do so with no major disasters. Later in the year I received a promotion at school, being upgraded to what in those days was known as a Scale Post with responsibility for Girls’ Games and Display.

One of my Netball teams of 1975.

Nigel’s baby was born, a little girl named Chelsea and although we continued to see each other regularly I knew our relationship would never be the same and was aware we were going nowhere. It was hard to work out what to do. Approaching twenty-five it seemed my party days were over and the chances of meeting someone special becoming less. A lot of my friends had settled down and started families; apart from my Mum, Nigel and seeing the occasional school or college friend I was not exactly enjoying a full social life.

Mum and I returned to the Isle of Wight again in June. Boo by this time was so familiar with the routine she’d dash to the door of the flat we’d stayed in the previous year as soon as we entered Daish’s, much to our amusement. I had my last fling that week with a man called Alan from Wales who was there for a green bowling competition. Nothing came of it; I suspect it was my attempt to prove I could still attract someone else and a way of getting back at Nigel.

My friendship with David, the divorced teacher at school, was blossoming. I learned a lot of things about him I admired and respected him for. He had custody of and was raising a three-year-old daughter, Louise, with the help of his own parents. He was planning on furthering his teaching career by taking a course in Special Needs education. He’d delivered his Dalmatian dog of thirteen puppies after his ex-wife had carelessly let the dog out when she was in season. He’d sat up all night to help deliver the pups, found them all good homes and kept the runt of the litter himself as a companion for the mother dog.

Emma and her thirteen cross Labrador Dalmation pups.

Here was a man who displayed responsibility, trust, honesty and was totally reliable; qualities I’d not come across too often in the male of the species and I was suitably impressed. I know now I misread some of those qualities, but in my romantic youthful state I felt I needed some stability. I was not in love with either Nigel or David at this stage, but knew the time had come to make a decision.

It was a Saturday night, almost ten years to the day when I phoned Nigel to tell him our relationship was over. It hit me hard for a long time, but I knew I could no longer drift along with him and I needed to be in a more stable relationship. Was it a waste of ten years? I don’t think so on the whole. We learned a lot from each other and from our relationship. We made a lot of mutual friends and had some fabulous times together. The love of my life? Probably. My soulmate? Possibly. I look back and wonder if I made the right decision and generally conclude I did. If Nigel and I had married I suspect it wouldn’t have worked out.

I started seeing David regularly. He had his own bungalow close by the school and I came to enjoy staying there and took to his two lovely dogs, Emma and Carla. In order for us to be able to go out, his parents had to be available to baby sit Louise. Much as I was a teacher and used to children, my contact with the under-fives was very limited and the restrictions a child places on a social life not something I was used to. There was some resentment on both sides. I think she mistakenly believed I was the reason her parents had split up and I felt she demanded and succeeded in getting far too much attention from her Dad and Grandparents.

I was the adult and tried to be tolerant around the child, but I look back now and see the situation was handled badly and Louise always came first. At the time I didn’t see this, but felt guilty for often not understanding why we couldn’t do things we’d planned because of things that crept up with Louise. I didn’t dislike her, but saw her as too much of a little doll who’d been put on a pedestal and spoiled to make up for the parental split. She went to her Mother’s at weekends and was always moody and difficult on return. It was a total change in my life but I was hoping to make it work one way or another. I’m not sure what my reasoning was, but I’ve always been frightened of failure and really wanted to be in a secure, loving relationship. I was determined to work at it and make a success of this new phase in my life.

It wasn’t going to be easy and as the year approached its close bad news arrived in the form of a telephone call to inform us my American grandpa, known as Pop had passed away on Christmas Day. My Dad’s Mum had died the year after my birth so obviously I’d had no knowledge of her, but much as I didn’t remember my Pop I had written to him for many years before he grew too frail. It was to be a forewarning of another bad year ahead.