feral girl

Last week I went to Tooting Bec Common. I wanted to go into Streatham anyway and I thought I would just sit and read my newspaper. I didn't expect to see any girls there, but one came and sat next to me. She was quite young. She was shabby and was wearing lots of make-up inexpertly applied.

I didn't want to have sex with her. She was quite miserable looking. Usually street girls on the Common are quite friendly and chatty, but she was different. I tried to talk to her, but she seemed distracted.

She wanted me to have sex with her. I said I didn't want to do that and she said "Am I not pretty enough?". She mumbled it and I had to ask her to repeat herself. I said that it wasn't that, I was short of money. She asked me how much money I had. I said I would rather not say because I wasn't there for sex that day.

Perhaps she would have had sex with me for the change I had in my pocket. I don't know. She asked for some change so I gave some to her just to help her out. The last thing I saw of her she was walking away from me and counting the money. I hope she spent it on food.

Just before she went off I asked her what her name was and she said 'Teresa'. I said "I used to know a girl called Teresa". I remembered that once a few years ago I fingered a girl called Teresa on the Common, and that later I had regreted it because she seemed so unhappy about it, unlike the other girls I have done it to.

I have written about this incident on this blog in December 2007. The Teresa then had been wearing a short skirt and had long hair. I'm not sure if the girl I met last week was the same girl. I did not recognise her, but then I only met her once about four years ago. Memories can fade and people can change their appearance. She did ask me for a light for a cigarette, and the girl I met several years ago had done the same.

Teresa seems to fit the description of what most people think a street girl would be like. She looked unhappy, depressed and with no confidence. It's almost as if she thought she did not deserve better in life. I wonder if she does heroin but not crack and if this accounts for her different demeanour.

If I saw her again I would offer to buy her something to eat. I could take her into Streatham to a cafe for a meal. I did this a few years ago with another street girl called Debbie. I would ask her about her life. I would not try to have sex with her.

What they often need is somewhere to live (like a hostel to begin with), a methadone script and getting onto benefits. Before that rehab. I could point her in the right direction, as I would any woman I met on the Common or in my neighbourhood.

I remember that when a few years ago I asked a street girl which other street girls I should avoid, she had given me Teresa's name, among others. So I don't know what Teresa has been up to; perhaps if I had gone with her into the bushes she would have robbed me.