Necessary travels have put paid to blogging this week but I'll catch up with you all over the weekend. I did, though, cobble this together!
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
This week we look at Love Hurts I'm sure you all remember teenage heartbreak.....
I'm not in love, so don't forget it
It's just a silly phase I'm going through...
Even after all these years, Rita winced on hearing the classic song. She had tried to love it, she really had, but it was hard when her body reacted with a physical stab of pain evoking teenage memories from the youth club discos of 1975.
How could that be? She was happy, healthy, comfortably off – yet, long ago lyrics propelled her back into the awkward thirteen year old with a well developed body and under developed confidence. Rita closed her middle-aged eyelids.
His name was Trevor Burdon. A fifth-former with acne, a swagger and a taste for double-denim that today's fashion pages hoot at. Rita imagined the Angel Gabriel to look like Trevor Burdon. Cheeky, but so golden.
Hiding infatuation in those years was impossible. It captured the heart with cruel passion. The early realm of love so terribly real. Hot blushes in the school corridor; dreaming of those eyes, cornflower blue, the laugh with a hint of dirt. Jill Nash saw. Jill, the tall girl, the prettiest girl – the naughty girl.
Saturday night youth club was a popular attraction in Rita's town and she remembered a boy, Ray, was it? A geek before the word exisited, assembling turntables - spinning chart hits and dance favourites. Those who didn't want to play table tennis or five-a-side football, gathered under dim lights and danced. Or rather, as Rita recalled, girls danced while a few boys looked on, occasionally stepping up to talk, to flirt.
Rita wasn't the most adventurous or fashionable of her friends; not like Jill Nash.
The youths were turfed out of the club by ten o'clock and Ray always played a couple of 'slowies' to wind down the evening, giving budding smoochers the opportunity to take that chance or withdraw and gird themselves for the following week. By late Spring of '75, everyone was smooching to that song.
Trevor had noticed her, once. He had called her 'kid' and laughed. She floated.
Her insides chilled when she saw him and Jill, faces together.
“Dance with Rita, she fancies you!”
Her dream....
“I'm not dancing with that!”
Did the world end? No, not the world, but something. A young flame sputtered.
Rita hated that song.
(A true story in 385 words)
For non Brit bloggers - a fifth former at school was 16 years old.
Yay, Friday! x
Hi,
ReplyDeleteHee hee, nostalgic piece and raw memories! Oh God, I feel Rita's belated hurt. At 13, the budding years of naivety, and all or nothing. Rationale of possibilities for some outweigh underlying truths of why some girls are more popular than others: for it ain't all about beauty! ;)
Nice take on "Love Hurts".
Have a great weekend.
best
F
Oh my God. My Trevor was called David and he pretended he liked me for a dare. How can I feel so embarrassed all over again, 25 years on? Damn you and your good writing, woman :)
ReplyDeleteIn other words, I thought this really captured the title!
Awh bless! Poor Rita. She's better off without the jerk. Excellent piece.
ReplyDeleteThat song is very evocative and moving isn't it. :O)
Oh, this brought back memories! I think we've all had a similar experience - and can still feel the hurt of first love and rejection.
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Poor Rita!! Booo to silly Trevor - he had acne and smelled!!!
ReplyDeleteTake care
x
Haunting post, and sad, particularly for Rita.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly have a way with words.
beautiful!
ReplyDeletei loved it..you write really well:)
Hello Margo.
ReplyDeletePoor Rita! Those teenage years could be so brutal.
Wonderful writing.
I actually like that song (smile).
Nice and flowing... You are poetic when you write - it is lovely.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine the young girl's love and hurt. Indeed music from our youth makes us nostalgic, sometimes embarassed at what we used to think and feel. But that is part of growing up.
Nice to meet you ~
I'm a brit and I didn't know what a fifth former was! You're showing your age and I'm showing my youth with that statement. A brilliant tale, I especially like the metaphor involving the archangel Gabriel.
ReplyDeleteYou had me from I'm not in love, I didn't even need the video clip to be haunted by it throughout the story.
ReplyDeleteWe laugh at teen angst, but it's painful moments like this one that you described so well that stay with us for the rest of our lives. (And thanks for explaining the fifth-former thing, this California girl hadn't a clue.) Great, great piece.
Thanks everyone! I think I've touched a nerve with some memories, huh? It's easy to forget just how *in love* some of us felt when so very young.
ReplyDeleteYou've all given me such lovely comments - thank you, it means so much. This weekend is for writing and writing :-)
@Andy Mc - cheeky! I was at school before they categorised the years as 1, 2 etc - it was all forms! One day you'll be as old as me :-)
"A fifth-former with acne, a swagger and a taste for double-denim that today's fashion pages hoot at. Rita imagined the Angel Gabriel to look like Trevor Burdon. Cheeky, but so golden."
ReplyDeleteYou say so much here. Love the voice!
Oh poor Rita!
ReplyDeleteYou words are wonderful - i really felt that teenage crush from years ago!
My heart feels bad for poor Rita. Lovely post, Margo.
ReplyDeleteI had a boy call me 'that,' too. He looked like Paul McCartney. He and the popular boys sat on the bus with one leg over the other seat so no one could sit next to them. I was last on the bus, shy, awkward and at a new school. I had no choice but to sit next to him and in the hall he told his girl friend he had to sit next to, "that." I recently saw him at the grocery store, life wasn't kind to him, he was tagging behind a friend like a puppy dog and gave off the scent of newly divorced.
ReplyDeleteLoved your story by the way. It's a great story that stirs our own memories.
Nancy
N. R. Williams, The Treasures of Carmelidrium
I still hate that song! I wouldn't relive my teen years for all of the money in the world...such a morass of emotions, backbiting, drama, embarrassment...ugh. Exceptional post having been written 'on the fly'. :)
ReplyDeleteI like the 'a geek before the word existed'. Fantastic!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written, I loved it!
ReplyDelete