Forever Is Over (3 page)

If this gives you the impression that I hated Billy McGregor, then
it
’
s the wrong impression, I didn
’
t, I liked him. It was no teenage crush,
‘
liked
’
him was as far as I could stretch it, but I dated him for seven
weeks largely because there were at least seventy five girls at school, who
would quite happily have chopped my feet off with a cleaver so they
could slip into my shoes. Billy was tall, dark haired and blue eyed,
the
perfect Rob Lowe combination. He was also athletic and pus free. Given
most of the lads in our year and Sixth Form could have filled a two litre
bottle of Coke with the pus from their
foreheads alone, this was some
achievement. God had dealt Billy McGregor a fine set of cards, it was just a pity that he knew it. He was used to getting what he wanted and
what he wanted during our seven week relationship, was to take my
bloodied sheets to
“
The Wine Bar
”
in Ormskirk and hang them over the
first floor balcony for all to see. I kept feeling like I was the girl in that
Meat Loaf song (
“
Paradise By The Dashboard Light
”
) who was getting
felt up by the guy who was trying to get to all the bases and then score
a
“
Home Run
”
. Difference was, in that song, the girl wanted the lad to
love her forever and I certainly didn
’
t want that from Billy McGregor!
I knew that I didn
’
t want to lose my virginity to him. In my life, things
have always been done on my terms. I didn
’
t want to be in the
“
Billy McGregor Stole My Cherry Club
”
which at that stage probably
already had about fifty three members or I suppose one member and
fifty three broken hymens.

So, other than looks, I was simpl
y going out with him because I
could and I knew this drove the majority of the other girls at school
mad! I would have won no popularity contests amongst the bitches of
Ormskirk Grammar School, so I could not have thought of anything
that would have given me more pleasure than the pleasure I derived
from watching their collective faces when I walked out of school and
down Ruff Lane, hand in hand with the person they most desired.
I savoured the jealous rage cooked up by every female onlooker. The
bitches of Ormskirk Grammar School had a cauldron bubbling over
with hatred and resentment every time I kissed his honey lips!
I loved it!
Even writing these words now, many years later, about their displeasure,
still sends a tingle down my spine!

Despite his over inflated ego and testosterone, Billy was pleasant
company when it was just the two of us! I know I said he was
“
The
Ultimate Dickhead
”
but I just meant he was the ultimate dickhead
when he was in a gang of lads. He wasn
’
t the sharpest of Rambo
’
s
knives, but even at the time, I liked him like a parent likes their three
year old son, he was pretty cute, he was entertaining but he still had
a lot to learn about life, so despite him stropping around and throwing
tantrums, I knew it was unhealthy long-term just to give him what he
wanted!

There were further complications. Even if I had wanted sex with
Billy McGregor, I was not 100% sure I quite understood everything
sexually, well enough to feel comfortable doing it and the last thing I
wanted to do, was to close up like a clam or a Venus fly trap and lock
Billy
’
s willy inside! I could just imagine Billy and I having to waddle
down to the pub, in some bizarre wheelbarrow motion, to tell my idiot of a drunken mother that we were off to hospital!

That was the problem.
I had no-one to turn to for sexual advice. I
had a no good, pisshead mother, who
would have probably suggested
bringing some of the lads back from
“
The Ropers Arms
”
to teach me a
few tricks if I had been to her for sexual advice. I did not have a father,
not one I had met anyway and although I had a grandmother, who I
referred to as
“
Tut
”
, as that
’
s all she ever did when she came round to
our house, I thought of her as a sourfaced old cow who despaired of my
mother and thought Kelly and I would be better off in a foster home
than being brought up by our Mum. To be fair, she was probably right,
but in the same way I thought of
“
Paradise By The Dashboard Light
”
when I was kissing Billy McGregor, when I saw
“
Tut
”
, I thought of
that tune from the
“
Wizard of Oz
”
that plays when Almira Gulch (The
Wicked Witch of The West) cycles by threatening to take Toto away
from Dorothy. I always thought back then, that if I was ever allowed a
dog, I would have called him Toto!

Incidentally, Kelly is my sister (probably half-sister as I can
’
t see any
man being daft enough to sleep with my mother twice - unless they
were equally drunk and had blotted out the first time). When I was
sixteen, she was thirteen years old. Kelly was loving, beautiful and a
diamond in the field of crap that my family was. At thirteen, I had only
just bought Kelly her first tampons (Mum was too hungover to make it
to Spar) so obviously I couldn
’
t have turned to her for sexual advice.

So, as a sixteen year old, what did I not know about sex? Obviously
I knew the basics, I wasn
’
t totally na
ï
ve!
“
Vomit Breath
”
, as I had
christened my mother when I was fourteen, had shipped enough men
into and out of our house (and her vagina) over the previous few years,
that I had had many eye witness encounters of forgettable (for them),
fumbling sex. I had also had a bit of
“
hands on
”
experience of the warm-
up act when necking Barry Pounder at an Aughton Tennis Club disco
and become a victim of his infamous, wandering hands. Nevertheless,
I did not know everything. At sixteen, I was still not quite sure where
sperm came from or rather where they came out from. I know this
sounds really, really, stupid, but l
et me try to explain what I mean.

Down below, girls/women had three entrance and exit points, but
as far as I was aware, boys only had two. Each one of a girl
’
s exit points
has a specific duty, one to poo, one to wee and one for creative duties
(blood, sex, babies).Thus, if boys only had two, I figured out one had to
be a multi-tasker, either that or there was another hole I was unaware
of. After giving it a lot of thought, I deduced that the hole at the end of
the penis obviously had a dual role, but
it struck me as very odd. How
did the male body know when to release what? I was not sure. Was it
size dependent? For example, erect penis = sperm, limp penis = urine?
This would make sense, but I was not sur
e that was right. I really did
not get it!

I cursed my luck. I thought I would probably be the girl who slept
with the lad who
se
body malfunctioned and we
’
d have to dispose of a
condom overflowing with wee. Obviously an additional complication
that scared me was the condom
“
putting-on
”
, but I expected the likes of
Billy McGregor to have had plenty of experience on that score. When
it was my time for sex, I decided I would pretend to look the other way
when the condom was going on and then slyly glance back to watch.

For all I knew the sperm/urine thing could have been a common,
unspoken problem, and concluded that potentially this was where the
expression,

“
He doesn
’
t know whether he is coming or going
”
came from!

I suppose the simplest solution would have been to just ask Billy, but
I worried that any talk about sex may have given him the impression
that I was up for it and I was not. Definitely not! I knew I would not
be comfortable until I knew what I was doing and how everyone and
everything was functioning! I realised it was a bit of a chicken and
egg situation though, how would I kno
w what I was doing until I had
finally done it!

Questions about male genitalia and questions like,

“
Who
’
s Fitter - Matthew Broderick, River Phoenix or Rob Lowe?
”

Answer - Rob Lowe (dark hair, blue eyes - winner every time), took
up all my thinking time at school and proper study took up very little.
I just wasn
’
t interested in schoolwork.

Questions about John Betjeman and friendly bombs falling on
Slough were boring! How could bombs be friendly? I just didn
’
t get
that at all!

Betjeman was earth shatteringly dull, but Jane Eyre (and whichever
Bronte sister wrote about her) was even worse! Who gave a monkey
’
s
whether Mr. Rochester had his wife stuck up in the attic and wanted to
trade her in for Jane Eyre? I didn
’
t! I concluded that even if it was true,
it was hundreds of years old so they
’
d all be dead now anyway, so let
’
s
just move on. I applied the same logic to R.E! I only changed my mind
on that when I was in my twenties. English Literature was my least
favourite lesson though, as I found the teacher, Miss Caldicott, to be
the mistress of monotony and dullness. I knew I was going to fail all my
“
O
”
levels, but Vomit Breath did not tell me knuckle down, far from it,
she encouraged me to leave homework and school work well alone.

“
There
’
s no way on God
’
s Earth I
’
m putting you through two years
of Sixth Form when you could be paying your way to help me and Kelly
out
”
.

She was a charmer my mother! Get a job, Jemma! Helps with the
school uniform for Kelly and the large scotches and ciggies for me!
Heart of gold? Sadly not. More like a big, fat,
decaying black heart. I
hated her. Hated her more than I can put down in words.

I was born an Evertonian. My Mum was an Evertonian, my uncle
was an Evertonian, my Granddad was an Evertonian, so before I could
walk I was a brainwashed blue. My Granddad started buying me a season
ticket in the Lower Bullens from when I was seven years old until he
became too old to go when I was twenty one. They don
’
t ban Senior
Citizens at Everton, he just found the walk to the train station and the
climb up and down the stairs too much once he got to his late seventies!
Bizarrely though, any real interest in going to the game was triggered
by my first ever trip to a football ma
tch which was at Burnden Park,
Bolton.

My Dad is originally from Bolton. Growing up I wasn
’
t close to my father. I wanted to be, but from Monday to Friday he was working, he
was a Regional insurance rep, Saturdays he was either at the bookies or
watching the racing on TV, then on Sundays he would strop around,
cursing his luck and re-counting his stories to anyone who would listen
about the horse in his accumulator that let him down.