The One - No one said it would be easy by J.F. Goldsmith Page B

them. I guess that, when a relationship comes to an end, one should insist on either completely destroying any compromising material while both parties are present, or locking them in a safe deposit box, the key of which is subsequently mixed in with the food for a gorilla at the zoo.  
     
    Our most romantic holiday moments – unforgettable! There we were, sitting on our shabby hotel balcony, drinking ghastly Retsina and philosophizing about life, the universe and everything whilst gazing at the awe-inspiring starry sky above us. Then there were all these questions about what else there might be floating around in the universe, and whether there is a God, and stuff like that. And you always try to say such clever and wise things to impress your partner. Once, entirely caught up in the ecstasy of love-island-starry-skies-summer, we sank onto the bed in our hotel room and just gazed into each other’s eyes, for hours. Magic moments! You felt as though you could gaze into the other’s soul, while allowing the other access to your own soul. It was almost a little spooky. I’ve never experienced anything like this since.
    But holiday ecstasies aside; even in our normal life we never missed an opportunity for having sex. At parties, we liked to disappear into another room and do it on the floor. We even did it in his band’s rehearsal room while waiting for his band to arrive. And one night we did it in his parked car, right in the centre of a medium-sized British city. People were passing the car constantly, but we obstinately carried on. During such a venture you have to be somewhat creative with regard to the disposal of potentially leaking bodily fluids. And nothing can beat sufficient supplies of paper tissues in a well organized and properly stocked ladies’ handbag. But even though one likes to boast about those outdoor sexual activities and assumes it’s just something one ought to have the courtesy to do, in actual fact there’s nothing better than being at home, in a comfy cuddly bed. No stress, nothing hectic, and everything you need is right there.
     
    Regarding those spontaneous sexual activities, it was of utmost importance to me that there was as little hanky-panky as possible and that my hair wasn’t mussed up. I had no intention of walking back into the party looking like a freshly screwed squirrel. They say that after sex you look particularly fresh and rosy. Well, they’re lying! After sex, I always look like a burst pillow. Hair pointing every which way, mascara down to my chin, lips sore from all the kissing, all the make-up gone, leaving all those carefully plastered-over spots mercilessly exposed, and a nose like that of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Speaking of make-up. The first time you stand in front of your boyfriend without make-up is a truly momentous occasion. I once opened the front door to Number Five without make-up on and he immediately eyed me with concern. “Are you ill?” he asked. “No, I just haven’t put my make-up on,” I replied, slightly miffed.
     
    One of the most memorable sexual experiences with Number Five was definitely the ice-cream affair. No idea how we even thought of it, but one day we found that we had a bed guest: a family-sized box of stracciatella ice-cream, which we proceeded to apply liberally all over our naked bodies. The coldness and the stickiness jolted our mutual arousal to fantastic new levels. We practically wallowed in the sticky gunk and we didn’t care how much mess we made. What turned me on especially was when Number Five scooped up a handful of ice-cream and spread it liberally all over my butt and in-between, as I was sitting on him. Having the ice melt and trickle down my butt crack was unbelievably exciting. Cleaning up this unholy mess afterwards wasn’t quite as exciting, but definitely worth the effort!
     
    It was Number Five who got me to try dope. For me this was quite unimaginable, because I’ve always been completely opposed