A spare room in Brixton

I’m white. George was white too. We had hit it off having gone dancing at the Mambo Inn in Brixton. I had danced with Black Man, and so things carried on from there.

This time things panned out differently, however. We went out dancing again, just the two of us. A black singer sang upstairs at the Mambo Inn. She looked dashing and somewhat sexy in her tight dress, which showed off her figure. Her deep voice was both melodic and rhythmic, and the backdrop of the Mambo Inn added to the atmosphere. I was taken in by it, but to my dismay – so was George. Having listened to her voice, he approached her in order to chat to her, or rather – to chat her up.

I never will find out, how far he got, but I remember taking the booklet ‘Audition speeches for women’ that he had given to me as a present to the second hand book store. He eventually left me for a white woman from Paris, who lived in a spare room with a couple in Brixton.

I think that really, we weren’t really a good match, George and I. He liked his romantic encounters behind my back, and really, I was looking for somebody else too, somebody who loved and adored me, not a play-on who would make compliments to other women in the hope of laying them on the sly. The flowers that he had brought me after our first night were lovely sunflowers, and I liked them, but in hindsight I know that he had bought them from the local supermarket for buy one, get one free.

He claimed that his father was Italian. Well, he wasn’t, as I later found out, he had a British Dad. To cut a long story short, he was a liar, and I dislike people who lie to me and about me. I think I did look good back then, but I was a bit slim-chested, which made me as furious about myself as my widow’s peak. I had brown hair, and was fairly slim, not to say thin. – Unlike now. Now I’m what the Italians lovingly call formosa, which is what I always wanted to be.

I like myself. I always have done. However, nowadays I ask myself why I decided to fall for George in the first place. My female friends seemed to like his advances too. Feeling insecure in a relationship is just no fun. I became yealous – for a reason – we quarrelled – we had a bad time.

I want to have a good time, with laughter and smooching and kisses and cuddles. I want to feel secure in my relationship, and feel accepted for who I am – not for the woman just around the corner.

Oben Unten