From now on I will be only posting extracts from my autobiography. I know many of you are following my journey and I really appreciate the support. Hopefully it won’t be too long till I find a good agent! Then, you can read to your heart’s content 🙂
Till then you will have to make do with the snippets. This one is from chapter 4.
Bad relationships were thrown back in my face. I never understood why I confided in him. What did I think he’d say? I suppose I assumed he’d be a supportive dad. I thought this for twelve years. Unfortunately I had no one else. During my twenties, my mother was preoccupied with my sister and her problems. I didn’t factor as much. Her life was exciting and mine was mundane. She was moving forward as I dragged behind. I was ashamed that nothing had happened. I had not achieved anything. All of my hopes had faded and I had no faith in myself to resurrect them.
I began dating much later than my peers. I didn’t have a clue about the opposite sex. As a teenager I developed intense crushes on boys I had only met once. I dreamt of being loved by them. My heart would ache and I would pine for something that didn’t exist, creating an elaborate plan in my head during the screams that echoed beneath my bedroom. I spent my time imagining that boy would come and save me. It never happened.
At school and college I felt out of my depth. I had never socialised with boys of any age, other than my father. I was awkward amongst the beautiful young girls. I blended in when I was desperate to stand out. I continued to lust and long for men but was never able to take the step forward to talk to them. I was at first attracted to shy men but at Drama school, became drawn towards more confident and outgoing ones. This was mostly due to the female friends around me. They were wild and frivolous and I suppose they rubbed off on me.
My new found confidence saw me get plenty of attention from successful, extroverted men. I pretended to be what they wanted and during my early twenties I got caught up in a succession of wild yet short lived relationships. I became addicted to dating. I loved the sense of being wanted and hated that eventually these men would see the “real” me and leave. The adrenaline would rush through me as I prepared for a date. Making myself look beautiful was just the start. The true pleasure came from the actual date. A man flattering me, being attentive, listening to me for that short period of time was enough to keep me happy for weeks, that’s until I was left wanting it all over again. It was a heady obsession.