It was 1959, I was ten, T. was eleven. We were very much in love. When I told my mother we had gone skinny dipping in the canal, I got my ears boxed and was sent to spend the rest of the school holidays with an aunt. When I was fifteen, we had more wonderful times together until he moved to Germany with his parents. Our goodbye came with many tears and promises. We would write every week and never marry anyone else.

It was 1998 and I had just stopped working in prostitution. I wanted to write a book about S&M and was going to work for a dominatrix for a few weeks. On the second day, the dominatrix allowed me to belittle and whip a client. First I made him lick my stilettos. Because he wasn’t submissive enough and had the nerve to address me with ‘mistress’ (instead of ‘high mistress’), I wanted to whip him harder. And that was when I recognised him, 'T., is that you?' He was startled and stood up. At once we were back in 1966. He told me he had the desire to be submissive because his father had often beaten him as a child. T. was now in his second marriage, and he wanted to make it work. It was better we never saw each other again. After a few hours we said our goodbyes, and he asked, 'Can I keep one of your stilettos as a memento?' When he walked out the door, it felt like my stiletto-less foot was no longer mine. 

A stiletto shoe

We grew so icy with each other those few days; what I thought might allow us to thaw the growing cold between us only solidified both our feelings. As you watched me scrape the ice off the car at the airport while you sat planning your family New Year's Eve, we both knew it was the end. 

Nothing was right for you in Marrakech, nor with the plan I'd painstakingly and lovingly created for us, but perhaps we were both ultimately too inflexible and too selfish. 

I accept my mistakes though the way you cruelly laid out my catalogue of faults still weighs heavy; my self-worth shattered. You never would acknowledge your own flaws though. Months of being fully present for you, limping from one family crisis to the next, trying to accommodate your needs, and taking on board all your interests. None of this - or the strain it placed on 'us' - was ever acknowledged. I thought there would be more grace, understanding and space for me when I needed it, but there was only space for you - I wish you'd been honest about that from the start; with me and with yourself. 

Hardest in all of this is realising that the person I fell in love with - and dreamed of building a future with - didn't exist, leaving me questioning my own judgement. 

But now, finally, I've cracked it and I am letting the illusion of you go. 

A stiletto shoe

Freezing Point