Can’t believe its been almost a year since the first time we met patricia.(how cheesy is that opening gambit..) At that bus stop on avenue Victor Hugo right after that brief but very violent storm. I was sat on the bench staring into space as usual, thinking about nothing in particular-when you arrived,-looking very stiff & formal (as if you had a rake stuck up the back of your coat) seeking refuge under the shelter. I could tell you were about my age-but the way you were dressed did’nt fit somehow..You were dressed almost as formally as some old people in church.-You were dressed this way on account of your job, I thought to myself,-but it looked like you were trying too hard-& I found that very touching.
-Then you started to tapdance!- er no, not really,-then you said “hello” for no reason whatsoever. Now, why did you have to go and say that? Hang on,-are’nt I the one who’s supposed to say that?- I mean,what’s the world coming to when people start spontaneously saying “hello” to strangers? That completely jerked my karma. “Hello” I replied checking that there was no one else around, then came the awkward silence, the pacing up & down, the looking at watches,-furtive wooden smiles & glances-yuuuuuurch!
The bus arrived, we boarded & continued our little game of ‘hide & seek’ (which I won by the way,-I always do.-Your hiding places were rubbish & anyway I could beat you any day at ‘tikky off-ground’-so neeer!)..I stared at you more insistantly to check if that “hello” before-was hiding a hidden motive..You stared back & we moved towards each other pushing & punching angry pensioners who got in our way.-I kicked one in the nuts saying sorry while I was doing it- you thought that was really cool & we embraced whilst the cramped philharmonic orchestra in the back started bowing their tits off..Real life: you looked back once in a while, slightly embarrassed.-Just before my stop, I thrust a piece of paper into your hand with my number on it, then quickly left the bus. I felt cheap doing that- but I had had a sort of mysterious ‘who dares wins’ urge (or maybe just an erection). ‘Who dares wins’,-win what?-I’ll tell you what,- a brief but intense relationship that rapidly becomes pear-shaped on account of the other half having suffered in chidhood because of her father, and transferring all his negative characteristics onto you-as if you were a completely different person! She was plain nasty sometimes. I’m sorry all that bad stuff happened to you p,-but do you know what?-FUCK YOU! We’ve all been through some heavy stuff at some point-please don’t make me compare.-Sharing experiences is one thing & that was what I was hoping for,-but shitting all over a sympathetic ear is quite another. I was really in need of affection (& I filtered this out progressively for once) & so were you but you could’nt admit it,-sad, very sad.
The only comfort I can get,-is that you started going off me when I began to embody the role that you had been imposing on me (ie: being shifty, lying to avoid argument, looking at other women)-I felt posessed,-you had dragged me to the lowest common denominator.-All your own work my dear!-I was unconciously validating your incessant finger-pointing,-Frankenstein’s monster!
Then I woke up realising it was’nt ME you had left-& I took out the bolts from my neck feeling like some stray heart-broken dog. Yes,-heart-broken, you know-when someone takes your heart & then breks it?- It hurts & makes a terrible mess of the carpet & you turn into a walking cliché from some sitcom with a cartoon heart.-How cheap & unstylish..Won’t be making that mistake again.
Since then,-’romance’ ‘love’ ‘relationship’ ‘heart’ etc. have been commodities that I find in my local supermarket,-right after the SEX section- & next to the cheese counter.
Mmmm…there’s nothing like a bit of cheese & wine when you’re feeling free again.