I am intrigued by love and its values; Father fell in love, when she married someone else he was unable to love anyone else, just constantly loving his girl, wondering where she was and what she was doing.
I have followed him exactly by falling in love and then being unable to love anyone else.
At long last I have only just learnt about love and the useless emotion it is.
It seems to devour lives and make those who have truly experienced the emotion, unable to love anyone again.
I wonder just how much of this being able to love totally is passed on in our genes and how much is reincarnation, a looking for the girl we loved and sadly left behind as we died.
It took a long time for me to understand love, but from an early age I began to look for love. I had in my mind a certain girl and searched for her.
Eventually I felt that I had found her and fell deeply in love. After some years she left me as she was promised stardom, as expected after a short time she returned when the stardom failed. I sadly turned her away having suffered so much when she left.
Years later I understood I was looking for Fathers girl, was this genes working or reincarnation?
The likeness between my love and my Fathers love is stunning.
Is Love a Useless Emotion
By Dr. Gordon Mays Baird
I was born at midnight, “The witching hour,” on the 9th of May in the star sign of Taurus the bull.
It seems that my controlling sign in my first house happens to be Venus the master of love.
I suppose this is a good reason that I have searched for love my whole life, for that special soul mate of a girl, all my life.
I was born an illegitimate child and arrived, instead of having the dark swarthy looks of my Greek step father; I had the bright blond hair of John Logie Baird my real father, my mother’s boss.
My real father was very wealthy at the time and after some hasty negotiations with Mother and Step Father Stanley, he bought my mother a house in Wanstead London in compensation for her inconvenience, and the matter seemed settled.
The trouble was that my step father had the fiery Greek nature and every time he looked at me, he saw in his mind my father making love to his cherished wife, arms around each other in ecstasy. This threw him into a frenzy of violence he could not control, so he not only beat my mother in revenge but also beat and fisted me, even as a very small child.
Mother and Stanley had accepted the house on the terms that I was brought up alongside their existing son Bernard who was aged two, as his brother; if they disposed of me they would lose the house. In an attempt to control the situation, I was hidden from step farther and kept in solitary confinement as much as possible in an attempt to ease the constant beating on my then, young body.
A sure case of hoping that if he did not see me he would forget me, the separation seemed to work a little and it did ease the situation, with me learning to cope with the solitary confinement by teaching myself to read, and making friends with a Dutch boy and girl, who were part of the decoration on a cheap, chalk clock placed on top of the bedroom fireplace.
To this day I tell people that my parents were books, making Libraries and Librarians very important to me, together with a fondness for anything Dutch.
So here I am totally hated by my stepfather and mother, hidden away as much as possible, with neither parent, as I knew them to be, wanting to even touch me, yet being told to call them Mummy and Daddy in an affectionate manner.
At last it came the time to start school, as I had been hidden never mixing with children except cousins and close family for short periods, it was a great frightening shock to be dumped into a classroom of strange children, without any explanation at all why it had suddenly happened.
After some months I did manage to settle somewhat, but the main disaster soon struck as the constant beatings had weekend and damaged my kidneys.
So late one evening I was suddenly rushed into Whipps Cross Hospital by Ambulance bells ringing and lights flashing.
I had never had any affection, love, or even attention, at any time in my five years on this earth, as they rightly say “If you never have it you never miss it,” and so I had lived not using my driving power of Venus, but just thinking that it was normal to suffer pain and be beaten most nights by Daddy.
In the Hospital I did think that because I was so very ill that the elusive Mummy or even, the then very worried Daddy would care and visit as soon as possible to see how I was.
After waiting many nights, bed tidy and straight, (just before visiting the nurses would rush around the beds tiding up, and straightening the covers ready for the visitors), I would sit upright, looking at the ward doors as they swung back and forth, disgorging so many strangers every visiting time, day after day, until at last the penny dropped, nobody was ever going to visit me, I was unloved, uncared for, and alone.
As I at last understood, I was totally embarrassed that nobody loved me, or cared about me enough to visit me. So as soon the first visitors arrived, I would slide down into the bed, with the sheets and blankets covering me totally, hiding me completely. There I would remain until the bell rang and visiting was over, not even daring to raise and expose myself for a breath of air.
Then one evening suddenly the sheet was pulled back, and there stood the nurse in charge of the tea cart. She stunningly, suddenly kissed me on the forehead, and said “Don’t worry you will be safe with me just stay still". She then wrapped me in a blanket picked me up and carefully slid me under her cart onto her lower shelf, placing my head on a pillow, off we went, delivering tea to anyone who wanted it.
At every stop I received a kiss on my head and every lady we stopped at said how handsome I was, could they touch my blond hair, so many wanted my hair and long eye lashes, and said how they would take me home as soon as I was well.
At the end of the journey I was returned home to my bed, hugged and kissed goodnight. I was in total heaven; Venus had started her control of my life, at last I knew this stunning love.
Every evening I was enveloped in beautiful perfume, and hugged, touched, stroked and kissed, I at last not only knew love, but was firmly in love with love.
My downfall had begun.
As always in my life these wonderful days were soon ended as the disliked Mummy and Daddy came to take me home to the House of Pain.
Five boys had arrived into the Ward with kidney problems with me and only two survived one being me. I totally fail to understand why God chose to take the others and not take me from my living hell. The other boys were loved and needed. Had they been good in a past life and rescued from this hell? Had I been bad and therefore left to suffer and repent for crimes that I had no idea I had committed.
Ask a small antelope just as it is being eaten alive by a Lion if this world is heaven or hell, the very fact that Nazi type people survive here on earth labels it as a hell.
Ask the people staring with blank eyes at us, out of the black and white photographs, through the barbed wire of the death camps, (which were run by ordinary people), is this hell we are in, or a Wonderful World.
People post wonderful pictures around the internet with wonderful poetic words. Cuddly kittens playing, being cuddled by dogs, hedgehogs snuffling their way to a bowl of milk, Meer Cats hunting playfully for food, so many pictures and so many fine words.
Yet even as they are being downloaded something is suffering the pain of being eaten alive, and man is proudly standing looking at a pile of corpses, or at his victims sad eyes, still staring from behind the ever present barbed wire.
The other boys were loved and cared about so much, I remember one mother coming to me soon after her son had died, she had arrived to collect his possessions, I was embarrassed as she was crying as she gave me David’s comics, and then she kissed me leaving me wet. I so wish I had died leaving her with her living, loving son.
Among the comics was a fancy card with black edges and wonderful silver printing, I recognized David’s name among the printing, there in the bright silver lettering. For years I kept this card, and because he was my best friend in hospital I would often look at it, feeling proud that I knew the boy whose name was on the fancy card.
As the years passed the card was lost or taken from me, and now I sadly cannot remember his surname, and his face I knew so well, fades into a background of Dandy and Beano comics.
I had been over a year away from school but on my arrival home I was soon back; the difference now was that I had tasted love.
Had the angel of my life the girl who had taught me about love, the nurse who with untold patience had wheeled me around the hospital kissing me, and loving me, as much as a mother loves her son, leaving me with a love of perfume all my life. Had she done the right thing? She had taught me love, and again in an instant I had confusingly lost it.
I remember being very quiet and hiding whenever I could in school, I was very sad, very beaten, and again living without love or any bodily contact, I had nobody in the whole world on my side, who could help me, then, a young lady in my class noticed me, and putting her arm around me cuddled me better.
We were only six and we became firm friends. We knew nothing of sex it was a pure innocent love as two lonely sad children found solace in each other, innocently holding hands and cuddling trying to keep the world away, and from hurting us.
She had blond curly hair she always dressed well with a nicely pressed navy blue gymslip, her sweet face smiles at me still from the old school photos. I still love her with that childish love that I never lost. She spoke with a nice accent so was easy to understand, telling me how much she adored our time together, as I stroked her soft hair while losing myself in the deep blue pools of her eyes.
I walked her home every evening after school which was sadly the opposite way to my home, which meant even after running full tilt, I was always late home and beaten again. This just did not matter as I had managed to find love again; I had many cuddles and even an odd kiss.
We had an innocent pure love for each other which supplied an answer to each other’s needs, so we cuddled and cuddled on the way home, walking cl
osely together every night, through Wanstead park with the singing of the many birds, and the smell of the damp ferns around us.
I so wish that we could have married right there and then, and lived our whole lives together, loving each other until we died without the need for any others.
As I stated before, nothing good or nice is ever left in my life, and like a curse because Daddy could not stop hitting me and there was a real fear that he would kill me, something had to be done.
The solitary confinement was not working as he would remember me, and come bounding into my dark bedroom full of a vengeance that I could not understand.
I was taken to my Grandparents and cousins as Mother desperately tried to dispose of me, getting me away from her love Stanley, sadly nobody wanted me, nobody had room for a small boy, nobody liked me enough to help.
My real father was not approached with the problem as they that is Mummy and Daddy might lose their house, yet luckily for them he had already died.
Eventually hearing and celebrating this good news, Mummy and Daddy realized that the problem of me had become much easier and an orphanage was the answer, a good ready-made dumping ground for unwanted kids, they also keep the house Mother had worked so hard for and suffered so much for.
I was taken away from my school love, without even the chance to say goodbye to my sweet love and dumped into a disgusting orphanage, just south of the Thames River.
There I was totally abused for over a year and ended up with leaking shoes, and rags for clothes. Family did not care about me, so why should this bunch of strangers who were just trying to earn a living, surrounded by smelly noisy disobedient kids.
I had learned what it is to be loved, and to love, now I had to learn to live, totally unloved, and untouched, yet again I managed to shut my mind down, and exist day to day, hoping at the age of seven to join my friend David in Heaven and die as soon as possible.
The months passed as I lived in this world of silence, of abuse, just existing, I never heard my name as the staff had no reason to remember the names of the children in care, they never used them.
I think that my bright blond hair had made some impression, as one day after I had been there well over a year they called my name. I did not react as it meant nothing to me, I heard it called again another twice then a sour faced nurse suddenly prodded me hard in the back saying “That’s you,” I guess she had remembered me because of my hair, or liked to know the names of those she tortured.
My Mothers Brother Uncle Greg had come to visit with some comics (Which I was not allowed to even touch). It seems that he was totally stunned at my condition, this thin unrecognizable ball of rags, this Zombie child, and feeling that anything was better for this sad faced kid than this, he set about working on Mother to retrieve me.
Always sharp about money the Mays had given me my inheritance when I was dumped into the orphanage, which was a new overcoat several sizes too big and some shoes the same, too big.
I had never had new clothes before, or even any money spent on me, and when they had bought these for me I knew all was not well.
Some months after Uncle Greg’s visit, Mother suddenly reappeared at the orphanage after her long absence.
My name was called; I knew my name now as Uncle Greg had made several visits. I put my hand up in answer, and a nurse come over saying “Stand up and follow me Mays,” along we went to the paneled entrance hall expecting to see Uncle Greg, but instead I was stunned to see standing there my very unloving Mother, who even after the ages apart I did recognize.
I had been in the orphanage a long time, yet as soon as mother saw the coat full of holes and the shoes without any soles she screamed very loudly at the nurse “Those were new when he came what have you done to them?” Once started she could not be stopped and continued screaming for the boss and some refund, she screamed to know who had worn my shoes.
I was at last having fun, seeing all these people who had made my life hell for so long run about trying to hide from this enraged woman, cowering in corners and ducking into any available doorway totally unable to even slow the tirade issuing forth from this “Mother”.
Eventually we left heading to Wanstead, as she half lifted me down the road by one shoulder, she was still mumbling about the cost of shoes. So with my shoes flopping making a click, click sound and the shabby overcoat leaving a trail if small cotton droppings as we walked, heading to the Tube Station, and onward to the house of pain.
I was on parole and soon back to solitary confinement.
I was back in the very comfortable position of not remembering about being loved or loving, and just settled back at school, being grateful every day that God had given me a friend called Roy Kilcast, to help me through the life I totally did not understand in any way.
I had now tasted this wonderful thing called Love, which had been snatched from me twice by Mummy and Daddy who in return gave me hate, and a disliked to even have me near them.
The photos of the time show them avoiding any contact with me, but as the law requires I was back at Aldersbrook School again and now in the latter part of the junior years, I had missed so much early learning, and had thankfully taught myself to read while in solitary confinement.
I was once again surrounded by beautiful girls and fell in love with Jennifer, and then Doreen, to name two who had along with many others a strong dislike of me. They suffered, enduring the long loving looks, and the staring from me with an outstanding tolerance, but gave not any sign of the love to me I now looked for.
Slowly appearing in my mind was the exact girl I was looking for, she had long dark curled hair, dimples, small breasts, she would be well spoken, and know how to dress well. I knew exactly how my soul mate would be so now all I had to do was find her.
I searched as I lived my life and eventually became sexually entangled with a girl who was nothing like my love.
After a short marriage and a terrible divorce I continued my search.
I had tasted love, and the warmth of having someone care about me, so I pressed on with my search.
I had started my own garage business and it was doing well. I never cheated anyone and word spread fast that I did a good job.
I would work long hours as I was still alone in life and still looking when suddenly late one evening, a girl entered the garage. In that very instant I knew it was my soul mate, my love.
Her name was Catherine and I was soon deeply in love with her.
Everything was perfect, her dark curled hair, her figure slim with small breasts, she was a Librarian, she spoke French, and she was educated and well spoken. Her short blue and white kilt was the height of fashion, she was perfect.
I was shaking as I casually talked to her about replacing her clutch which had gone in her car.
I casually offered her a lift home, and thank God she agreed. Very bravely and stunningly I asked if she was involved with anyone. The answer was no and I was in heaven, the frog had a chance to win the princess.
We ended up in a Hotel restaurant and then booking a room for the night, she was perfection even down to her underwear. Within days we were together, deeply in love.
From past experience I knew it would not last, but as we swore of our love for each other, I felt that this might just last forever, I prayed with all my soul to God that it would.
She was so beautiful I would sometimes look at her while she was sleeping, wondering why she picked me, the frog, yet I had at long last everything I had ever wanted, even a readymade family as I grew to love her two daughters from her broken marriage, dear Samantha and Caroline.
As always we had to live in the world, and after three glorious years, the Devil came, directly from ITV’s Yorkshire Television and promised her he would make her a star.
After a surprisingly short time of many “Up skirt” shots and after being able to screw her easily using the stardom carrot, she was dumped, back on the street.
When she had left I had been hurt so very much, only just surviving a suicide attempt, so I refused to allow her back into my life, probably the greatest mistake I ever made in my life, I guess if we insist on loving someone we must learn to share their love.
I was now unable to ever love again and after tasting the best of love, I again had no love in my life.
After ten long years I was at last healed enough to be able to react to other women, and settled down to a wonderful friendship relationship.
I had again learnt over the years not to need or want love, strangely the lesson had been taught to me when I first tried to walk towards my Mummy, and she turned away. Then confirmed to me when I was never visited by my Mother in Hospital, yet it had taken me almost a lifetime to learn that we do not need love in anyway to be able to live, and in fact quite the opposite we are much better without it.
I am positive I heard God laughing every time I was deprived of love, and it was taken from me, while I blundered on yet again seeking this useless thing called love, he must have been amused, I always was a slow learner.
So at last after all these years I am free form the affliction of love and am extremely happy to be so, since I do not love, and I do not look for love, life is so easy and so much better.
Love in ninety nine percent of cases will only hurt and destroy your life, please take the advice from an old man and never look for it, and if you feel it happening please run away as fast as you can, love is of no use to you, forget it and enjoy your short time on this earth, there is so much to do and see. When you see a sunset and want to share the experience, just talk to the person alongside of you as anybody will do, the wonder you see is in your mind, and cannot be shared anyway so just talk to anyone. In this sad world there is always a lonely soul willing to listen.
Father was deprived of his love and settled down to invent Television probably one of the greatest inventions of all time. He sadly never was able to get over that love, and spent precious hours of his life pursuing the stupid and elusive love. I have copied him by spending far too much of my life looking for love and write this in the hope it may rescue someone from the clutches of an early death by LOVE.
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