Bunny and the dungarees

bunny-dungarees

I wish I had a photograph to illustrate this little tale. My childhood soft toys lived with me until I was about 40 years old (then they went to the dump toy heaven). I was particularly fond of Bunny who was given to me by my aunt Gretta. It must have been very expensive, plush white fur bunny with pink silk lined ears and the topper was that she was wearing blue striped dungarees! Bunny even held a little plastic bouquet of carrots. The stuffing seemed to be like fine sawdust and over the years it went down to her feet. Every so often I would give her a really good shake to distribute her stuffing properly.

I married young and the toys came to bed with us. My husband (aka Teddy) bought me endless new soft toys and his first gift to me was a human sized stuffed Panda as a late 21st birthday present. Then we got cats, so the poor old toys had to sit in Nana’s rocking chair. During the ’80s we lived in an old bank in the North of Scotland and the proportions weren’t quite right for a regular house. The upstairs hallway was as big as a bedroom with a huge window. I loved to see Bunny, Teddy (the toy) and all the others basking in the sunshine as I went up the stairs.

Bear in mind, I was in my ’20s so my hormones were raging with really bad PMT AND a mental illness… The first batch of cats was young and very, very naughty. They chased each other up and down those stairs like fairy elephants and also loved to bask in the sunshine. One day they had just pushed me to my limit – fighting and playing noisily all day, throwing up on the stairs, a stray poop on the carpet and general mayhem.

It must have been close to dinner time and I went upstairs only to see the upstairs hallway in disarray. Worst of all, poor Bunny had been taken off the rocking chair and somehow those bad cats had taken off her dungarees. Teddy (the husband) came home to find me sobbing inconsolably holding my poor naked Bunny in my arms. Through choking sobs, I said, “They took Bunny’s dungarees off”. He looked perplexed and said, “Who did it?” “Those bad cats!” was my snot filled response. I could see so many emotions passing over his face. “WTF?” “Oh Lord, she has her period!” “The cats??” He was struggling so hard not to laugh while kneeling down comforting me.

We both ended up laughing, of course. Bunny had her stuffing redistributed and the dungarees put back on. Order was restored to the upstairs hallway and the cats were forgiven…eventually.

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Sexuality through the ages

He had a eight pack...

He had a six pack…

The title suggests that I am delivering a historical thesis but I am really talking about sexuality through my ages. In the previous post I referred to a nightclub I frequented. The owner was a paper millionaire at least and took a fancy to me. I was 19 and although I no longer looked innocent, I was very obviously an ingénue. He was ANCIENT – probably about 30 but very handsome and likely married. He told me he was separated from his wife and I chose to believe him because I was intrigued by his interest in me. Girls were lining up to take advantage of this rich, handsome man and my disinterest was probably like catnip. I guess we got to first base and he took me to dinner one night. The truth is that I was slightly repulsed and scared by the age difference even though he was a looker. I blew him off, stopped going nightclubbing with the ‘girlfriend’ and then got back into a serious relationship with the steady boyfriend.

Just before that I met a very handsome man who was a catch at the nightclub. We had some fun in his car when he took me home but I was secretly frightened that he was too good-looking for me and unceremoniously dumped him when the regular boyfriend reappeared after a short break-up (like a fungus). I was perplexed by how upset the handsome man was and then just moved on. About a year later, I met an old college friend who coincidentally consoled the very handsome man at the pajama party that I declined to go to and they were now living together. To my surprise, he had talked endlessly about this charismatic American/Spanish/Irish girl that he had met and my name was so unusual that she knew who I was. I felt guilty on a number of levels – that I had used my fairy glamour on him for my own selfish purpose, that her relationship with the love of her life was sullied by his brief encounter with Khaleesi and that I had made a terrible mistake. I really wanted to marry or be with a very, very well qualified guy and he wasn’t it. I joke with my husband, who has a B.Sc. and Masters, that he is the least smart date I have ever been serious about and it is mostly true.

When I was 19 years old (all this was happening that year) I was at the height of my sexual allure. I was asked on dates at bus-stops, male college friends would walk 4 extra miles to carry my college books to my bus station and generally men fell at my feet. It was intoxicating and I took full advantage of it. By the time I was 20, my steady boyfriend had dumped me because of my numerous infidelities and, as his mother had indicated, I was not the right girl for him. I moved on swiftly to the international student association, dating my way through the world, breaking hearts as I went. When I met my current husband at age 21, I had been dating two handsome global students at the same time with their grudging permission (take it or leave it) and was setting off to the Edinburgh Festival with the first date of a life time. He looked a bit like Mick Jagger. My friend, who was a geologist, invited me to her 21st birthday party and I felt I had to attend so declined the Edinburgh date. I guess the rest is history.

I met Teddy, was astonished that a geologist could be funny, handsome and have an eight pack (Scottish Karate Team). We were engaged in 3 months and married within 11 months. For most of that time I didn’t see him as he was working overseas so it was a shot in the dark but my instinct was correct. I predated him then, and beat out some ferocious competition at the same party. Then I took him home with me, to meet my mother, and seduced him along the way. He was both shocked and delighted at this innocent looking kitty in heat but he did not protest…

So, I married at the age of 21 and discovered that I had both some medical sexual problems (frequent UTIs) and hormonal/fertility issues but not immediately. Like most young married couples we were at it like rabbits, trying out gymnastic positions and generally having lots of fun. Then over time, our sex life got less interesting and more painful for me. The turning point was realizing that we could not have children naturally and that I definitely had a mental illness. My husband is adopted and I could not bear to go through the adoption process only to be denied because of my poor mental health. Nonetheless, Teddy and Bunny adored each other and we moved through the decades with love always present but sexual desire waxing and waning.

More historical documents tomorrow…