Danny

 Danny wasn't my first long term relationship. I wish he was because at least being really young would go some way to mitigating the absurd way I felt and still feel about him.

He's the one I always look back on sweetly despite the relationship being primarily focused on sex, drugs and alcohol. One look at his stupid face and all the bad stuff recedes from my memory. I saw his face recently on a newspaper article, only after googling him after being told that he'd been to prison recently. Apparently he had taken a number of temazepam (always his drug of choice) and decided to go driving around causing thousands of pounds of damage to other people's cars and electric fences. Hardly surprising behaviour from him but my heart still leapt when I saw his mugshot. His dopey smirk and dirty blonde curls looked a little different to the giant mohawk he sported when we were together but the eyes were the same.

I wasn't surprised to read about his prison sentence. I remember how he used to get when drunk, usually violent, always verbally aggressive but never towards me unless you count the time he kicked me while walking down a street thinking I was a rubbish bag. I've never met anyone who could drink as much as he did or get quite as wasted as him. He had no stop button, or even a pause button, and he seemed to think a night out was a waste if he didn't wake up with a hangover. Getting kicked out of bars or even banned was a specialty of his. 

I used to be on edge when he started drinking and he never seemed to be sober apart from when he was at work, alcohol was a huge part of his life.We'd met in a bar that I was working in, we matched perfectly as I had a mint green mohican at the time, and Danny's brother suggested we date. I bounced off with a smile on my face after agreeing and things moved quickly from that point on. We were together all the time. We looked like a more obviously punk Sid and Nancy and I think we both viewed their story as the ultimate love story. 

Danny worked as a scaffolder and I changed jobs to work in retail. He always came to work to pick me up and we'd cook together and bounce around listening to punk music. It was a surprisingly conventional time even if we didn't look it. He introduced me to various bands that I hadn't heard of and we loved going to gigs together.

At times he could be surprisingly sweet and told me he loved me often. When I was on my period he would buy treats like fresh strawberries and chocolate mints for me and I felt loved. Looking back, I think that may have been the one relationship that every other had to live up to or surpass and none have ever managed it. Danny made me feel sexy. I was young, skinny and unconventional pretty but he made me feel wanted. The sex wasn't great but it was frantic and passionate. In that aspect he reminded me of a drill hammer which probably isn't the most romantic way of describing sex. He would happily display his affection publicly and I was happy.

Until I wasn't. We'd gone to a gig -  an old 80's band had got back together and Danny bought tickets for us. They were incredibly boring and I'd wandered off and come across the drummer from their more enthusiastic support act, Lenny, and got chatting. He was older than me but friendly and he seemed nice. He suggested I go see the support band again and I agreed. I spent my evening talking to him until Danny appeared. Sitting between them, Danny appeared childish, aggressive and not very bright. Danny kept being really possessive in Lenny's company and it was irritating me. 

The relationship with Danny was quickly breaking down. I'd noticed I couldn't stand him touching me and had started avoiding him. I couldn't work out how my feelings had changed so quickly, I just knew that at that moment in time I disliked him enormously. 

I went off my food, living off yorkshire tea and buttered crumpets. I couldn't drink my usual coffee and felt sick constantly. I think I knew. When you're pregnant, even in early pregnancy, you feel different. It feels like a tiny ball of electric energy within your uterus. Eventually I couldn't ignore the niggly feeling in my stomach any longer and made the doctors appointment. As soon as the doctor told me I was pregnant I started sobbing. She looked at me and kindly said that maybe it wasn't the right time. She obviously didn't expect the crying. She printed out some information on Marie Stopes, told me to think about it and arranged a scan so I could see how far along I was.

He came around one night and I broke up with him. I didn't tell him I was pregnant, I knew he'd want to keep the baby, and my appointment was already booked. There had been only two options for locations. I'd arranged for the abortion to be in London, I knew I couldn't do it closer to home as I didn't want the reminder constantly.

Danny took the break up well but I was left to my own devices for a few weeks. I thought about the baby constantly and went over every possible outcome. It wasn't that I didn't want the baby, I just had no idea if I could be a mum. I knew I didn't want Danny to be the father. I knew that my baby deserved stability and neither me nor Danny could provide that. 

When the time finally came I travelled alone to London. I'd taken the bus and ended up at Victoria Station with no real clue as to where I needed to be. I was six hours early so constantly asking for directions, I managed to make my way to Brixton.

The initial interview didn't take long at all. I barely remember the questions they asked but I just explained that I wasn't old enough or ready mentally to have a child out of wedlock and they accepted it. I remember being put to sleep and then I woke up feeling overwhelmingly empty. I knew instantly I wasn't pregnant anymore but there was no relief.