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Living alone
By Hilary Preece of Tranquility
I was married once. For twenty years actually. I married Chris because he seemed like the most stable sort. I guess of all my qualities insecurity was my downfall. I married him firstly because he asked me and secondly because I knew he would never leave me. He wasn't the most exciting or interesting man, but he was honest and reliable, and he loved me, and that was good enough for me. I knew a man once, his name was also Chris, who felt he had never done anything wrong in his life, not really wrong. He was a teacher, a family man, he worked in the church and wore suits. One night, coming back from visiting family, he came to a roundabout. It was three in the morning. He looked all around. There were no cars. He went round the roundabout the wrong way. Unfortunately he hadn't seen the police car! In court all he could say to the judge was, "it seemed like a good idea at the time". It was a bit like that with my Chris. He got to fourty and had an affair. He hadn't been easy to live with always. I tried to encourage him to be ambishious. Finances were always a struggle. Sex wasn't that good. I did often wonder what life would be like with someone else. I never had anyone particular in mind. I often felt I could cope better single. In fact I was devistated beyond belief. I cried. For three years I cried. I waited. I wanted him back, under any circumstances. Married was bad, single was worse. In the end I moved to France and started a new life in a little town in the middle of Brittany. I run a tea-house. I, like many other English people, put myself in the middle of a foreign country, where I didn't know the language and thought I'd cope. I was in the centre of a town, totally issolated. I drank. I wrote poetry. I worked, day and night. Then I met Dave. We walked. We ate ice-cream. We sang. He was my salvation, my guardian angel, my hero. Life was not easy. Dave was a retired musician. He had no money, infact before I met him he believed he was going to die. He had had a heart attack quite young and high blood pressure for fifteen years. He had given all his money to charity. I didn't know that at the time. He had been told the chances were he wouldn't reach sixty. I told him I wouldn't go out with anyone who was going to die iminantly, and he stopped talking about it. I don't know if he stopped thinking about it, I suspect not, I mean it's quite a big deal death isn't it. Dave died three months after his sixteeth birthday. It was't his heart. It was an annurism. He collapsed on my bathroom floor and was unconsious and fitting by the time I found him. It's funny, I told him once not to die in bed as it would be too embarassing. We weren't married. He didn't, bless him. Being with Dave was difficult, being without him is more difficult.
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Contributor's Note
love the one you're with. Life is short.
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The copyright for this content entitled "Living alone" has been specified by the contributor as:
Public Domain
The copyright for this content has been relinquished by the author. The content may be used freely by anyone.
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This intel was contributed by Hilary
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May, 2012
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