Get Into The Light: Chapter Seventeen- Love Bites Are Ridiculous

So an attempt was made to remedy the farcical video situation and give me more camera time. But I clearly wasn’t at my physical peak. I felt disorientated and decrepit. I didn’t feel beautiful. But then there was another way of looking at it too- perhaps the video shoot would be a positive- giving me something else to focus on, something practical that didn’t encourage paranoia. This would give me a chance to express some of the turmoil I’d felt, to finally prove that I was a decent performer, that I wasn’t dependent on someone like Lynette to sex things up for me.

And this was how I spent the night before the shoot, weighing up the fact that I still felt a mess, was incapable of putting myself out there for other people to judge versus the fact that this could be the one thing that could make me feel better.

Parts of the Vondelpark were private enough not to worry about having a lot of onlookers. No doubt this was why Joost had chosen this particular area as an ideal location to shoot with such a camera-shy type of gal. We were right in the centre - too far for tourists, drug addicts and bongo drummers to bother with. If you’re high as a kite a few paces into the park is a good enough a walk already. And so the fact that there were no people meant it didn’t feel awkward to be dressed for a rave at eleven o’ clock on a Tuesday morning.It was just me, Joost and a video camera. I was standing on a slight hill (remember- everything in Amsterdam is flat so what signifies a hill is something that extends up by two feet) and Joost had the track on his ghetto blaster and each time he’d hit play and I’d close my eyes and imagine I was in my own private world. Except that was what had gone wrong before- not being totally aware of where I was and what I was doing so I tried to open my eyes instead and be super-conscious of every move. But actually it was better with my eyes shut. Otherwise I could see Joost squinting into the camera and I could read by the grimace on his face that it wasn’t going well. I wasn’t being natural. But in fact I was completely natural, completely true to myself - doing my sloth-like movements and the hill was not a hill but instead a bucket of treacle. And the record was not a dance record, it was the soundtrack to a melancholic yet ultimately quite tiresome film with me as its central protagonist.
‘Come on Lola - put some passion into it,’ Joost said, shaking his head.
I experimented with bending my knees a little and waving my arms like propellers. This had worked before. I let my head fall back and tried to toss my hair from side to side in a very Lynette-like style.
‘You’re not moving,’ Joost said once the track had come to an end.
‘I am moving,’ I said irritated.
‘No I mean really moving. More than that tree over there.’
I was starting to feel that Joost was pretty un-likeable. Okay he was smooth and he had his fashion connections and I guess he was attractive but in a really obvious way but all these things meant he wasn’t capable of sympathising with an individual such as myself - a person who had to think hard about every little thing because being cool wasn’t her natural state.
‘Maybe it’s the location. Is it the location? Shall we try and walk a bit further into the park?’ he said after another hour.
I nodded and whilst he carried the camera and ghetto blaster, I picked up the sports bag full of outfits (put together by Lynette) and my dignity which was reduced to a small particle of dust balanced on the end of my finger. But that was the problem- I had to be willing to lose that dignity. I had to flick it away and not give it a second thought. Was that possible?
‘Hold onto this,’ Joost said and handed me the camera and case as he climbed onto his bicycle and motioned for me to get on the back.
He balanced the ghetto blaster on the handlebars. As we rode deeper into the park, I imagined we were boyfriend and girlfriend and just about to have a difficult conversation about our relationship. Then I imagined we were two resistance fighters in the Second World War escaping from the enemy but just about to cycle into a booby trap. Then I imagined an escaped lion chasing us and we were about to be eaten alive. All of these scenarios were pretty appealing alternatives to what was really happening.

‘Have we got anything good on film?’ I said, reaching round Joost’s waist with one arm and holding onto the bag and the camera with the other.
‘Perhaps Lynette should have come too,’ he said by way of an answer.
But the whole point was NOT to have Lynette around because Lynette was a camera vampire. She sucked all the good images out of that thing (and everyone knew there could only be a finite amount of good footage per day) and there was nothing left for me. And besides being with Lynette only made me feel more uptight. We were different- didn’t Joost understand? I tried to think of other performers – real life examples where one partner was one way and the other was completely different but struggled to think up any duos where one partner was really charismatic and the other had the on-stage persona of a good, long snooze. But it was good that Lynette wasn’t here as it would have only made things much worse. I’d snap out of it in a minute and really show Joost what I was capable of.

The noise of bicycle bells and swear words rang through the air as we entered into a busier part of the park and quickly blended in with a crowd of cyclists going at a frightening pace.
‘It’s perfect,’ Joost said excitedly as we arrived at an area that looked just like the one we’d just left, ‘Jump off. Walk right into the middle of the field. Then when you feel comfortable turn around and we’ll start filming.’
I dumped the bag and walked with great difficulty (white platforms on muddy, lumpy ground) and there was a voice inside saying – this is your chance Lola, come on really go for it. Make someone cool think you’re cool. You don’t get this chance very often. You want this. Joost pressed play. I focused on the camera and let all the other factors- the strong smell of manure emanating from my shoes, the couple of cyclists that slowed down as they passed, the hint of damp in the air and the fact that I couldn’t really hear the music because it was too far away.
‘I’m not sure if this is any good,’ I said after about five minutes (it felt like fifty) but Joost was too far away to hear.
I wondered if he was filming or whether this was all just a ridiculous game and we’d end up with the original version of the video anyway.
‘Keep going,’ he shouted.
I kept going for a bit. Then he started moving towards me in a pretty menacing manner. I thought how rock stars, great performers were made out of completely unique material. When a camera advanced upon them, their natural instinct was to relax and bed in, to display their interestingness on their face, to demonstrate it in a wealth of meaningful ways and in contrast all I wanted to do was run away. But as he moved closer I mouthed the words to some of the lyrics and eventually Joost was right up close with the camera next to my left eye which felt like it was about to start twitching any minute.
‘That was great!’ he said, ‘Much better- I almost felt you were enjoying it.’
He smiled. That was something I really liked about Joost- his ability to make people feel good. He knew whatever we’d just shot was complete rubbish and yet he wasn’t making me feel crap about it. No doubt he’d find some special effects he could run over the top so it looked like I wasn’t a lifeless corpse. Maybe he’d even animate part of it so he could make me look like a great dancer. And okay he’d made the comment about the tree but that was understandable- all artists got frustrated with their models but overall he’d made me feel like I was significantly more talented than I actually was. It was easy to see what Lynette appreciated in him even if he refused to hold hands now and then.
‘That looked cool,’ he said slightly out of breath, ‘Let’s go and have a drink to celebrate.’
He turned to walk back to the fence and then suddenly turned back. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and pulled me towards him. Before I knew what was going on, he planted a kiss on my mouth.
‘What was that?’ I said angrily wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
It was the kind of kiss Lynette liked to force upon Pete- like licking his face. He’d licked most of my face in the process.
‘Do you want me to bite you?’ he said and leant forward and suddenly bit into the side of my neck.
And instead of moving, running away or crying I just stood there and thought how painful it was that he was sinking his teeth into me and didn’t seem to be about to stop and was making these sucking noises and then scraping his teeth backwards and forwards over my skin.
‘Get off!’ I said eventually (but I’d left it too long to make it clear how I felt and I wasn’t clear anyhow).

He pulled away and smiled. There was a bit of dribble on his lip. I wondered if he was going to murder me here in this field. Or was this just something he did to all of his models? Was this how he’d seduced Lynette? He turned and headed towards the bike and stereo. Like what had just happened was completely run of the mill. I felt like crying. My neck was actually really sore and yet this guy was cool and whenever someone was cool then I felt like I had to please them. But who actually gave people lovebites anymore? It was like being at school and he’d gone out of his way to make it really noticeable too. Ridiculous! I rubbed my neck and walked back - it was just starting to rain. Joost offered me a cigarette and I sat down on the bench next to the bike. I wanted to be angry but in reality I was just stunned. I’d been so caught up in my own internal struggle and the bite had just snapped me into real life. I kept rubbing my neck and waiting for an apology. The rain was getting heavier and Joost put his jacket round my shoulders. I didn’t look at him and the more I rubbed at my neck, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about Carl. Eventually I looked at Joost’s giant hands. He was a monster. Lynette was lucky to be alive. Or was he just a sleaze ball? I’d heard about photographers before- this was probably something he tried with everyone. But how did he want me to respond? Did he want me to cry? Or did he hope I’d bite him back?
‘Sorry about that,’ he said when we’d both finished smoking.
The rain had stopped but the sky was still dark. I needed to go home and see Carl and eat some mashed up potato. Maybe there’d be an old film on we could watch together. I’d have to put some concealer on my neck first and hopefully he wouldn’t notice anything.
‘I just wanted you to be less uptight,’ Joost said sitting down on the bench next to me, ‘You have to live a little.’
‘You’re funny,’ I said.
‘You’re uptight.’
‘I’m not uptight at all.’
But he was right. And the love-bite wasn’t the real problem here- it was the fact that I was trying to be someone I wasn’t- trying to make my way in an occupation that required me to be outgoing, spontaneous and completely immune to the opinions of others. And I would always be the opposite type of person. Perhaps Joost was just trying to help me understand how pointless this whole thing was. And this disparity – that was the thing that had caused the psychosis (along with the drugs) - I just couldn’t cope with being two people- the real Lola who wanted comfort and safety and then this other one who seemed to enjoy being bitten by a monster with giant hands. Perhaps in reality it was easier to hand the whole performance thing over to Lynette who had all the necessary skills to bring the music to life. And at least she was consistent in her feelings and fascinating to watch.

Watching me on stage was like watching your Granny take a bath- you wanted to look away because it was just too human and sad.

I didn’t come to this conclusion all at once. But it wore on as the afternoon progressed and Joost and I sat in a bar with the rain pelting down outside. I tried to forget the deeper significance of the days events. I really just needed to enjoy myself for a bit. The bar was decorated with murals of James Dean on some sort of African safari and was an excellent place to forget reality. Carl would still be working at the studio anyway and wouldn’t be home until late.

‘You’re very serious,’ Joost said as I finished off my third Duvel.
I took one sip of Duvel then followed it with a sip of Jenever. I was uptight and needed to relax. There was nothing wrong with drinking beer and spirits at the same time.
‘Make up your mind- am I serious? Or am I just uptight?’ I replied.
The spirit gave me immediate heartburn. I picked up the beer bottle and drained it empty- it tasted revolting- like beer filtered through an ashtray. I remembered how Carl had said never to drink the last bit because this was the strongest.
‘You’re funny,’ he said, ‘And are you feeling better in yourself? You know- after what happened?’
‘I think so. I still feel a bit shell-shocked. I don’t really know what happened. It feels like it was someone else.’
‘Perhaps that was the real Lola trying to come out of her shell.’

Joost’s foot was now touching mine. He seemed to be finding excuses to lean over and touch me. At one point he’d shown me some of the footage on the small video screen and told me I looked beautiful and I’d practically fallen off my stool. It was true what they said about a stranger’s compliment having more power than the man you woke up to each morning. Carl had been so patient with me- he’d literally nursed me back to health and yet here I was completely taken in by this guy - it was so clichéd! The whole thing was ridiculous. We talked some more. I soon got used to the taste of Jenever and the burning feeling that followed. The bar was starting to fill up. It was seven o’clock. It might have been eight thirty. We ordered another two beers and two Jenevers. I had to eat some of the bar nuts to stop myself from throwing up because we’d skipped lunch. I kept lighting one cigarette straight from the next. Joost held my hand and told me about all his old girlfriends and the story of each one and I started to get tired of the attention these other women were getting so asked him if we could look at the video footage another time and he got the camera out and again said how beautiful I was and how I only had to remember this whenever I was feeling self-conscious because the camera could see when you were self-conscious and it made you stand out even more. I was entering that stage where anything seemed possible and Joost seemed to be implying that I should actually consider being a proper model which was silly but I believed him because at this point I’d forgotten that Carl even existed and was in this marvellous place with James Dean herding rhino and this monster photographer showering me with compliments.

As Joost excused himself and went to the toilet I stared at the empty bowl of peanuts and I then I remembered that I had a boyfriend and this boyfriend was always telling me how perfect as I was, that I didn’t need to change for anyone but in fact now I thought about it, Joost was being more honest because he saw me as someone capable of changing - in fact he believed that I needed to change in order to get more out of life. And sometimes it felt like Carl didn’t really want me to change. But that wasn’t fair – because in fact he was always trying to encourage me to do better- it had been his idea to get me writing more lyrics. I really needed to go home now. I was feeling mixed up. I needed to cover up this love-bite. Joost came back and sat down on the stool, motioning for the barman to bring us another two beers and two more Jenevers.
‘I can’t drink that stuff anymore. It’s too strong,’ I said, ‘What time is it anyway?’
‘It’s only nine o’clock. It’s the perils of daytime drinking- you lose all track of time.’
‘We’ve been drinking since about two! I can't believe it.'
‘Something like that. We'll Just a couple more, then go.'
‘Okay.’

And I didn’t want it to end either and was secretly glad that it was his suggestion to stay longer.
‘I’m really glad that we’ve got this opportunity’ he said as he lit yet another cigarette.
‘Me too.’
‘I wanted to talk to you properly.’
He leant forward and I could feel his breath on my face. I instinctively raised my hand to my neck.
‘I’m really in love with Lynette,’ he said slurring a bit, ‘I really, really am.’
And then I suddenly realised absolutely nothing was happening and all I wanted was to go home to Carl - okay he spent hours ruminating over various chord structures on his computer, he wasn’t such an extrovert (but that suited me fine) and his ankles were a bit too feminine but he was perfect in every other way. But instead of bidding Joost goodnight I quietly sipped away at my drinks, one after the other as a long and turgid diatribe unfolded where Joost listed all the qualities he really valued in Lynette - her free spirit, her open-mindedness, her spontaneity, her lack of inhibition- a long catalogue of attributes that went on forever and I listened to all the things their relationship seemed to have going for it and felt a sinking feeling as I realised that Carl and I had none of the self-same things. And perhaps this didn’t matter but perhaps it did and perhaps that was why I was still sitting here looking at Joost and his long eyelashes and even tolerating him holding onto my hand as he raved on and on. But I was getting a headache and needed to go to the toilet. I didn’t even know how I was going to find my way home. I’d been completely deluded. It wasn’t uncommon for me to sit through an evening and listen to a man list the qualities of another woman but usually it didn’t happen on a day as humiliating as this one- a day when I felt crap one minute and on top of the world the next and decidedly crap once more.
‘We would make a good team,’ Joost said grabbing my hand again as I got up to go to loo.
‘You just told me how you’re crazy about Lynette,’ I said.
‘But you’d calm me down. Be a good influence. You’re so sensible and kind.’
And this really seemed to be in the same league as being perceived as someone who’s known for making a really good cup of tea- someone who squeezes the bag on the side of the cup and never lets the milk and the bag come into contact. Someone who wraps the cheese up in cling film and wipes the toilet seat before they sit down in case there are any stray drops of wee. And this wasn’t the person I aspired to be. It certainly wasn’t someone who starred in their own dance music video that got played regularly on MTV.
‘Excuse me, I have to go,’ I said.

And once in the toilet, I sat down without thinking about the miniscule drops of pee left on the seat. In a minute I’d order a bottle of Jenever. The alternative was always being the person who made a really good cup of tea. I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was probably because I was taking too long. I’d been sitting there for five, maybe ten minutes straight. What was I doing in this bar anyway? I had a loving partner and he'd be home in about two hours and we'd spoon in the bed together and in the morning I'd tell him all about the shoot and how awful it had been. I pulled my pants up and sat back down on the seat. Whomever was waiting could wait a bit longer. My head was starting to hurt more and more. I felt depressed. I’d have to hide how pissed I was from Carl when he got home. I'd probably just fall asleep as soon as I got in anyway. Someone knocked again. As I opened the door, Joost was standing there. It didn’t look as if he was about to launch into how much he loved Lynette. He pushed me back into the cubicle and locked the door. For a few moments I wondered what might happen. Then he grabbed my neck and I felt like he was strangling me but it was just because the area where the bite was still felt sore. Love bites were ridiculous. I hoped he wasn't going to give me another.

We kissed.