his deepest fantasy. I’m so grateful John understands friendship for what it is and is not always trying to turn it to his advantage. This is so typical of Colin, and also of Sally not to mind.
See also Codes; Rude; Voyeur; Women’s Laughter
letters
Dear Kate,
I think you should know that . . .
Dear Mrs. Hutchinson,
Your husband and I have been . . .
To Whom It May Concern,
John Hutchinson is in love with . . .
Dear Kate,
I hope you will forgive me for remaining anonymous, but I am a well-wisher who . . .
Dear Kate Hutchinson,
I have thought long and hard before writing this letter but . . .
Dear Wife of John,
I . . .
Dear.
Oh, dear.
See also Codes; Endings; Utopia
liqueur chocolates
John sometimes finds it difficult to use the L word. We have used up the apricot liquid I won at the sex party, but the other day, he broke open liqueur chocolates on my bare skin and made a joke of it. “I l-l-l-l-l you,” he said, sticking out his tongue and licking the spilled liqueur off instead of saying
love
. It was fun at the time, but I was disappointed afterward. And sticky.
Sally says the thing to do is not to nag. They get enough of that at home. “What has he bought you?” she asked. “These men just love buying us presents, don’t they?”
I couldn’t show her the frying pan, the set of matching cookie tins, or even the tea towel with illustrations of all the different species of fish. Even though John and I chose it together from the local fish-and-chips shop, it doesn’t match Colin’s presents. Not in cash terms, anyhow. I use the tea towel to wrap up the empty chocolate boxes. John says we’ve got a habit.
See also Glenda G-spot; Tornadoes
love calculators
There is a Web page on the Internet that lets you type in your name and the name of the person you love, and it works out whether you are a good match or not. John and I are 67 percent compatible. Dr. Love says that we need to work at our relationship. Sally and Colin have distinct possibilities at 78 percent, but on the other hand, Colin and I are 99 percent right for each other. A match made in heaven.
When I was at school, we didn’t go on computers so much, so we used pen and paper instead for these little love calculations. We’d cross out all the letters that appeared in both names and then work our way through the remainder chanting out
love
and
hate
alternately. When I tried this with John’s name, we only had two letters in common, although the ones we do share spell
it
, which has to be significant. However, when I do the chant, it comes out
hate
. I don’t know John’s middle name, though. Maybe if I used our full names, it would come out with a more correct answer.
See also Mistaken Identity
lust
When my father was lying in his hospital bed, I tried hard to concentrate on things he’d like to talk about. It was difficult, though, because what I couldn’t say was that I felt like I was wading through an erotic fever. The sicker he got, the more I wanted to make love to healthy men. My need was shaming. John was the first person I told about how I really felt. The men I knew at the time were too grateful to speak much. When John told me lots of people felt the same, I was so relieved. This is what I like about John—not the fact that being with him is exciting, just the opposite. John makes me feel normal.
See also Grief; Illness; Teaching; Why?
M
magazines
John thinks it is strange that I have never shared a flat with anyone. I did think about moving in with Sally once, but then Mum got ill, so I just stayed at home until I bought my own flat.
Besides, having a flatmate is not something I’ve ever fancied. It’s not just all that fridge etiquette; but if I wanted to sum up everything I hate about the flatmate relationship, it’s the way they read each other’s brand-new magazines without asking. There is something so special about opening a glossy magazine and being the first to tear the pages when they get
See also Codes; Rude; Voyeur; Women’s Laughter
letters
Dear Kate,
I think you should know that . . .
Dear Mrs. Hutchinson,
Your husband and I have been . . .
To Whom It May Concern,
John Hutchinson is in love with . . .
Dear Kate,
I hope you will forgive me for remaining anonymous, but I am a well-wisher who . . .
Dear Kate Hutchinson,
I have thought long and hard before writing this letter but . . .
Dear Wife of John,
I . . .
Dear.
Oh, dear.
See also Codes; Endings; Utopia
liqueur chocolates
John sometimes finds it difficult to use the L word. We have used up the apricot liquid I won at the sex party, but the other day, he broke open liqueur chocolates on my bare skin and made a joke of it. “I l-l-l-l-l you,” he said, sticking out his tongue and licking the spilled liqueur off instead of saying
love
. It was fun at the time, but I was disappointed afterward. And sticky.
Sally says the thing to do is not to nag. They get enough of that at home. “What has he bought you?” she asked. “These men just love buying us presents, don’t they?”
I couldn’t show her the frying pan, the set of matching cookie tins, or even the tea towel with illustrations of all the different species of fish. Even though John and I chose it together from the local fish-and-chips shop, it doesn’t match Colin’s presents. Not in cash terms, anyhow. I use the tea towel to wrap up the empty chocolate boxes. John says we’ve got a habit.
See also Glenda G-spot; Tornadoes
love calculators
There is a Web page on the Internet that lets you type in your name and the name of the person you love, and it works out whether you are a good match or not. John and I are 67 percent compatible. Dr. Love says that we need to work at our relationship. Sally and Colin have distinct possibilities at 78 percent, but on the other hand, Colin and I are 99 percent right for each other. A match made in heaven.
When I was at school, we didn’t go on computers so much, so we used pen and paper instead for these little love calculations. We’d cross out all the letters that appeared in both names and then work our way through the remainder chanting out
love
and
hate
alternately. When I tried this with John’s name, we only had two letters in common, although the ones we do share spell
it
, which has to be significant. However, when I do the chant, it comes out
hate
. I don’t know John’s middle name, though. Maybe if I used our full names, it would come out with a more correct answer.
See also Mistaken Identity
lust
When my father was lying in his hospital bed, I tried hard to concentrate on things he’d like to talk about. It was difficult, though, because what I couldn’t say was that I felt like I was wading through an erotic fever. The sicker he got, the more I wanted to make love to healthy men. My need was shaming. John was the first person I told about how I really felt. The men I knew at the time were too grateful to speak much. When John told me lots of people felt the same, I was so relieved. This is what I like about John—not the fact that being with him is exciting, just the opposite. John makes me feel normal.
See also Grief; Illness; Teaching; Why?
M
magazines
John thinks it is strange that I have never shared a flat with anyone. I did think about moving in with Sally once, but then Mum got ill, so I just stayed at home until I bought my own flat.
Besides, having a flatmate is not something I’ve ever fancied. It’s not just all that fridge etiquette; but if I wanted to sum up everything I hate about the flatmate relationship, it’s the way they read each other’s brand-new magazines without asking. There is something so special about opening a glossy magazine and being the first to tear the pages when they get
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