This will be the final entry of this blog in this incarnation, its the end, but the moment has been prepared for. I left my previous entry on a bit of a cliffhanger, but life and adventure for good or ill got in the way. So, every good storyteller, needs to come to a conclusion. This is mine.
Years 21 to 23
There is a certain magic to Scarborough, which is very hard to put your finger on. I found that from the moment I entered Flat 2 trinity Road, a two bedroom flat for 40 quid a week and the power on a coin meter that things were definitely looking up. I put my head down and focussed on one thing, GET THE B.A. I resolved that there shall be no women, no drink, no drama but a concentrated focus on studying.
It took me 4 months to start a relationship with a former page 3 girl whose idea of a chat up line was to show me her nude pictures, which she kept in her purse. So girls, if you really want to pull a guy, let him try before he buys.
I got my Degree, I also wrote most of hers. I made wonderful friends and was so grateful that I was enjoying life, that I saw no reason to leave.
In a related misadventure, the former page 3 girl was kidnapped by a Saudi Arabian and recovered from the chloroform just in time to jump out of a moving car halfway to Heathrow. I saw her at Graduation, where upon my mother enquired to my Stepmother, how her "throwing arm" was while glaring at said former page 3 girl with the recently shaved head, courtesy of her kidnapping ordeal. Coincidently, it was also the first time I realised she wasn't a natural blonde. I felt cheated.
I was in a good place, I never should have left.
While I was deciding my future I met and fell head over heels in love with a beautiful Girl from New Zealand. A brave backpacker who saw through my bullshit, actually asked me out, saw snow for the first time and generally, we made each other happy. We had a brief stint in Oxford, a beautiful city, inhabited by psychotics masquerading as eccentrics and eccentrics masquerading as students.
I didn't like it. I had about seven jobs, that ran the gauntlet from stock boy, herbalist, supervisor, manager and gypsy. It was at the Kiwi Princess's request, that we returned to Scarborough, to try and recapture the magic at any rate. Those last few months were bitter-sweet. There was a Calender counting down to when she would return to New Zealand. Every day crept closer, every day I felt a touch off loss, but I never let on.
I regret playing it cool. I regret not getting on my knees and asking her to stay. In fact, when we had our first Transatlantic phone call, that was the first question she asked me. "Why didn't I ask her to stay?"
I eventually made the Journey to New Zealand six months later. We broke up inside a week.
I rationalise, that because she was not happy, I made the right choice to brave a country I knew nothing about and with no income, no support, no friends or family.
It became an interesting adventure at the very least.
Auckland is a fascinating city in New Zealand's North Island, upon my arrival I needed two things, money and shelter. So, to cut a long story short, I became a male escort.
Did you see that one coming?
"K" Road in Auckland is home to the prostitute's union and a vast array of sex shops, massage parlours and sushi bars. Occasionally all three would converge. I remember distinctly, an Asian client hired me to provide escort for his daughter to a business function. Nothing so unusual in that, except I was more or less there to make sure that his daughter was not violated in any way as she lay naked on a table whilst covered in sushi.
You might want to read that again, just to get the jist.
Contrary to what people imagine, sleeping with your clients is not compulsory. You make up your own rules, mine was simply a "no penetration" rule. It has been pointed out that it could be taken two ways, but it basically means, I'll French kiss you anywhere, but no tickler. The clients ranged in age from 16-60, the lonely, the bored, the high powered, the thrillseekers, the downright weird.
One of my last appointments was to escort a young lady on her first family gathering after her sex change. I must admit, that the bravery of this young soul was amazing. Formally known as "Brian" and re-introducing herself as "Evelyn" she was charming, bright and petrified that she would not be accepted. She also had one hell of a right hook.
The gathering was designed by Evelyn to re-integrate herself to her family. She had not seen them since her decision and now that she was complete, she wanted nothing more than to be part of the family she missed desperately. I still can't imagine the loneliness she must have gone through as his body changed week in week out to a her. Then facing a final operation with nobody to greet her on the other side.
Most of Evelyn's family accepted her, specifically her sisters and parents. It was her brothers and cousins that began a slow clap as her great uncle produced a bible and started a passage in Latin, that I later discovered was an exorcism prayer. I was but a bit player in this drama, but it was the unique insult of "SheFag Fucker" aimed directly at me that prompted one of the most pitch perfect knock out punches I'd ever seen from somebody in a dress, or from anybody else for that matter.
It was from talking to Evelyn about family that made me realise how much I was missing mine, I had just turned 24 and had moderate success as an actor when I wasn't escorting. The other notion that struck me after a birthday alone was that I did not under any circumstances want to spend Christmas alone. I said goodbye to my former New Zealand Princess, who seemed happier, and arranged the flight home.
As I sat on the plane, it occurred to me, that all of the events felt as if it had happened to somebody else.
Years 24-27.
Essentially, this part of my backwards life ends at 27, mostly because I was somewhat burnt out and tired of always being on the go, looking for that next adventure.
After an ill fated return to Scarborough where I cost myself a fortune and had to go cap in hand back to my folks, who had actually moved house when I was gone, something they always threatened to do, but I never took them seriously. I'm glad they told me the address.
Coming home was odd, I had never really explored where I came from, to be honest, I was bitter. I had gone so far, yet here I was back where I started. I somehow metamorphosis into an overgrown teenager. I could not have been pleasant to deal with. I ranted about failure, raising money for drama school, bemoaning my loss of independence, the loss of Romance and the indignity of having to get a "proper" job. It's weird, how you're always more mature away from your folks.
I did take a job and my world was brightened up, as it always is, by a girl. A sweet, innocent dark haired beauty with broken hips and a controlling father. I was with her for 18 months and we behaved like a couple of teenagers corrupting each other for the first time. She calmed me enough, that I started planning my next move. A proper practical acting course, where I would finally get a lot out of my system, attack my ambitions armed with information.
She was also my rock when my stepfather had a heart attack or three.
It was just after Christmas, I was due to start an evening shift, my mother had planned lunch at a Thai restaurant. As a family, we had not been getting on, my plans had rocked a recently established boat, as I had scarcely been home since I was 19, they were worried about losing me again.
After we ordered, I was worried about being late for work, my father started showing all the signs of a classic heart attack. I should have known better, but I thought he was pretending. It's something I will never forgive myself for. It became obvious, I phoned the ambulance, calmed my mother, phoned the work to tell them what was happening. I was perfectly calm, until I had to verbalise the words "Heart attack". Then it became all too real.
In that one painful moment, that realisation that we could lose him, I think I actually grew up a little. I thought about the years away, the selfishness, the ambition that overrode sanity. I wished to God, I had never left home.
As in all dramatic moments, an element of comedy arrived. The waitress, somewhat oblivious, placed my father's order in front of him. He glared at her with a look that could freeze napalm and simply said "I don't think so". Then in-between waiting for the ambulance, my mother tried to pay the bill. To their credit, the manager refused and spent time calming the three of us.
My Step-father survived. I later heard that he had a new paramedic with him in the ambulance, who was panicking. My father had to guide him through the procedure,whilst in great pain. Later still we were informed that they could not knock him out to administer the clot buster and he was awake throughout.
They sure as hell, don't make them like him any more.
I had an angel with me during that time, the girlfriend's father also had had a heart attack a few years earlier. We had a bond there, she healed me, her strength allowed me to be there for my mother and father as they adjusted. Her strength became mine, which is something I will never forget, which makes my treatment of her a little unforgivable.
I had abandoned my plans for Drama School, I wanted to spend time with my family, however my father was not pleased and encouraged me to go. I found the perfect course in Newcastle and asked the Girlfriend to come with me. She said yes, then she said no.
I was on set for a BBC adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, playing a medical Student when I received a text telling me she had changed her mind. The course was arranged, a new job was arranged, a flat was arranged. We had even gone down twice to get a feel for the place. I was angry as I typed "lets call it a day now", but I never pressed "send". I was called to film and placed the phone in my pocket, flicking the "off" switch as I went.
A few hours later, I had made up my mind to move to Newcastle, but maintain the relationship. I turned on the phone. I found I had actually sent the text.
I had broken up with an Angel by text Message. I was officially Scum.
The decks had by cleared by accident or design. New city, New course, New friends, New adventures. At 27 I went to Newcastle and never looked back, what happened there could fill a book and maybe it will one day.
Who you are is defined by your memories, an actor, writer or artist even more so. They are the fuel that drives you, inspires you. Never mind what you "Should" be doing, take a clue from a man who in a short space of time, failed at being "normal" but succeeded in being himself. You don't have to be married, mortgaged up, raising children or climbing the career ladder, unless you want too. Its your journey, for good or ill, for comedy or tragedy, embrace it, create with it. Your life is the gift, not anybody else's. I feel like I've lived a life backwards, because I kept going forwards. Read into that what you will.
So, this Blog is changing in the next few days, I have a specific project I want to concentrate on and a Blog shall be its chronicle. So say Goodbye to Darqueness Falls and welcome "SkyLark's Call".
Yours in Scare's and Dare's .
J.D
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