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April 2007, Jersey / Luton Airport
Rule 54: don’t have sex with strangers (People, who are promiscuous in their thirties, were ugly in their teens)
At Luton airport, I see this: Dad comes out. Girl runs over. Dad kisses girl. Boy runs over. Dad beams, and picks up boy. Mum arrives. Dad kisses her briefly. They walk off. I’m thinking: NOOO you fool! Kiss her first. Obviously she’s not as cute as them: that’s WHY you must her kiss her first.
As I walk to my plane, I feel depressed. I think: we may be the best generation of parents ever. We’ve got Lauren Child, we’ve got SuperNanny, but we’re all going to divorce cos dads won’t kiss their wives first. Liv’s currently not kissing me, because I’ve got a reddish moustache, which, I think, makes me look like Earl from My Name is Earl. She says I look like a ginger poof.
I fly to Jersey where I’m doing a comedy gig. At the airport, I’m met by the organiser - Claire. Four years ago, she was the girl in Edinburgh that everyone fancied. She’s got long red hair, and fall breasts, and very large eyes that are full of sensitivity. She looks like a suffering saint. A saint with big breasts and a help-me-I’m-lost look in her eyes. It’s a devastating combination.
And here I am in her car. She tells me she has a young son now, but her husband left her, after she shagged a well-known comic. She hasn’t forgiven herself. “It’s a nightmare raising a single child, but… I couldn’t have stayed with my husband. I was losing my fire.”
“I’ve lost my libido completely,” I say, “it’s been packed away, in a box, like the Christmas decorations. In fact, my libido is like Christmas. My wife is happy to see it, since it’s only once a year.”
“All comedies end in marriage,” she says, lighting another fag. “So if you’re married, you’re in a tragedy, which ends in death.”
I fancy her even more now she’s coining Wildean aphorisms. Up till now, I was just feeling lust towards her. Now I realise it may be actual love. Maybe we could live together, changing the world with wit, and having sex on a large rug. I realise I’m drunk with desire. I go quiet till I reach the gig.
When I’m onstage, I try an aphorism myself: “when you’ve been together awhile,” I say, “you don’t feel much desire to make love - more a desire to go to sleep. My ideal woman has big breasts, which dispense hot chocolate. A custard cream selotaped to the nip. Tattooed across the stomach, the last chapter of The House at Pooh Corner.” The crowd laugh. I have a feeling I don’t always get at home: I’m doing well.
Afterwards, I have a drink with Claire. She tells me about her life. She says “the worst thing is I get lonely,” and then squeezes my hand. I realise she’s just said: “would you like to sleep with me?” I stare at the bubbles in my pint. I’ve not felt so turned on in months.
Clare says: “Why don’t you look anyone in the eye? What are you scared of?”
I’m thinking: I’m scared that you will take me to your bed. I’m scared I’ll place my cheek against your soft white stomach. I’m scared I’ll ruin the life of me, my wife, and my children.
I don’t say that. I say: “I must go to bed,” and I lunge forward, and kiss her. It’s officially on the cheeks, but our lips touch slightly.
Next morning, I fall asleep on the plane, and have a luscious dream where I undo Claire’s jeans, and find some red pants that Livy used to wear. I wake, and realise I’ve been forgetting how I used to feel about my wife, before I had kids, or a stupid moustache. I even wonder if I’ve been refusing to be sexy with her, as part of some weird power struggle. I realise I’m lazy. Suddenly I picture Liv. I realise it’s my marital duty to treat her like a red-headed whore. Once in a while. I feel like a horny Viking returning from his travels.
At Luton airport, I’m still feeling guilty that I nearly got off with someone. I buy so many presents, I have to put them in a bin bag which was in my luggage. Then I buy razors and I shave. At security, the lady customs officer actually says: “You’re going to have to empty your sack,” and I say “Tell me about it!!” and she gives me a bad look.
Then I stride into Arrivals, and see the whole family. For a joke, they’re all wearing wigs. Cassady’s got a Kevin Keagan mullet, but I ignore her. I ignore Grace too. Liv’s wearing a blonde bob which is hilarious, and very sexy. I kiss her roughly her on the lips, and, in that moment, she’s a fresh bride in red pants, and life is a comedy, which can be enjoyed again and again and again.
Topics
What makes you feel you want to leave your partner?
When you find yourself fancying a stranger?
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