Am dating my teacher Adultsexchatweb com
It was all a welcome escape from my 'real' life and the secrecy was thrilling; it was also flattering to have the attentions of an older man, and a teacher to boot, at a time when I felt sexually inadequate among my contemporaries.
So I know exactly how Jess feels: excited, loved, treasured, grown-up, independent, sexually liberated.
I went from doing algebra to making straw baskets and, every morning, taking the cream off the top off the free third of a pint of milk we were given by the Government (those were the days) to make a teaspoon of butter by shaking the cream up and down in an empty coffee jar.
But, despite the lack of intellectual stimulus, I enjoyed life. She bought me a psychedelic crimplene dress and a cow bell on a rope to wear to school in 1969.
Another married head of department got through three pupils during their sixth-form years; another was having an affair with one of my closest friends.
To this day the way our self-esteem subsequently suffered as a result of these men occupies much of our conversation.
Indeed, the intensity of my feelings was such that I went to university in Cardiff, 20 miles up the road, just to be able to come home and baby-sit for him at the drop of a hat and see him for ten minutes at the end of the evening when he took me home.
There was another school dance and, in the excitement, I had missed the last bus home. At one point, I considered leaving school, getting a job and moving into a bedsit; I had also started suffering from migraine and depression.It is Jess's view that they have done nothing wrong; it is my view that, in about ten years' time, she will be in the throes of depression, angry at having her youth dominated by someone who took advantage of it, and in 20 years' time, in therapy to help her move on with her life and catch up with those stolen years, which is exactly what they will be. But I am weary of trying to be that person and know that if I do not speak out on what, to me, has been the most destructive experience of my entire life, I will not be able to move on completely.There are things - namely, very successful therapy and fantastic friends - within the past five years that have enabled me to do so, and thank God for them; but heck, it has taken a long time.I am now 49, and my relationship with a teacher wrecked well over 30 years of my life, rendering me incapable of enjoying any other healthy relationships, either physical or emotional, for most of my life. I had two wonderful parents, a brother whom I adored (we have still only had three arguments in our lives - all about sport on TV) and I loved school.It left me depressed, self-harming, suicidal, and, most devastating of all, hurt and angry to a point of incapacitation in my writing, the thing I love most. I had moved from the very progressive Durham Road Junior School in Newport to a quiet country school in Coity, just outside Bridgend, where, very frustratingly, we were given every afternoon off.
I asked Jim for a lift, as he lived close by me, and he told me to wait by his car. What Jim offered was someone to talk to and it was he who encouraged me to stay on at school. I do not doubt the depth of her feeling; I had, and, if I am honest, continue to have, a degree of love for the teacher with whom I became involved; but I also know that it is a love based on inequality; an obsession.