stratocaster86
03-14-2011, 08:10 AM
My ex girlfriend gave me the idea. We’d be walking home from the cinema and every time a man would be walking behind us she’d clutch my arm real tight. In public this was the closest we would get. She clutched hard enough to make sure I’d get the point; the point being that every man that walked the streets at night was a rapist/serial killer/mugger. Regardless whether the guy was returning videos or grabbing his takeaway the decision had already been made. When we staggered home drunk, dodging the edge of the curb and walking down the road she never clutched my arm. That voice would tell me right in the open, “That guy is following us, I’m sure he is.” This was always followed with laughter. I once told her that we should’ve always walked home drunk to stop her from ripping my arm off.
Skip to the part when she’s now referred to as an ex and I am alone. Skip to that part of your life when you feel you are at your least inhibited self; when you feel life shouldn’t have any rules. My god, you have become a rebel.
You get a job working night shifts, alternating weeks. You go to work in the dark and come home during dark; and its winter hours. You always thought that a night shift job would be cool because you’d never had one. Holy **** did you ever regret that epiphany.
Then you’re following some lonely woman walking down the street. And there’s only you and her on it. If you were that bit closer you could hear her legs clattering right up to her vagina. This is the time when women wished they did have eyes in the back of her head, oh, but surely that would give her away. This is you on your way to work. But from the other side of things, twenty paces in front, you are Jack the Ripper. Picture all the noir films you ever saw, they could only wish to achieve tension quite is thick as this. Really I should’ve been wearing my trench coat and trilby hat to sustain full effect.
Then I’m on the next shift and it just so happens that this very same woman is taking the same route at the very same time down the very same street. Whether she worked far from myself or not wasn’t the question I was to ask. Instead I gallop up real close and clutch her arm. I let go in order to stop the screaming and offer up a conversation. When I say let go I mean pin her up down the nearest blind spot and cover her mouth. So I’m telling her the truth. I’m telling her because she needs to know. I couldn’t spend another night walking behind her and smelling the paranoia drift from her thoughts. If only all men could tell the truth on a regular basis? This; is the long run, would make matters worse in most departments but in this situation it was a necessity. That face of hers showed an awful lot of confusion, I’ll give her that. But I finished the conversation with a smile and I watched the woman’s paranoia turn into relief. I felt like I had planted another tree in the rainforest, I felt like I had saved the checkout girl using an extra plastic bag, I felt polar bears were hunting just fine again.
This wasn’t the last time I was up to this. Not with the sense of accomplishment being so rewarding. Addiction would have been in the wrong place had it been used because I wasn’t depending on it. It was all depending on whether a girl was walking in front of me.
Fast forward to the part where my ex has a new boyfriend. She throws round that arm of hers round his and I know she’s not drunk. That poor guy has to go through the same as I did. Then she’s turning off down a different street to myself and I shout, “Get yourself to the doctors dude, get that arm checked out.”
Skip to the part when she’s now referred to as an ex and I am alone. Skip to that part of your life when you feel you are at your least inhibited self; when you feel life shouldn’t have any rules. My god, you have become a rebel.
You get a job working night shifts, alternating weeks. You go to work in the dark and come home during dark; and its winter hours. You always thought that a night shift job would be cool because you’d never had one. Holy **** did you ever regret that epiphany.
Then you’re following some lonely woman walking down the street. And there’s only you and her on it. If you were that bit closer you could hear her legs clattering right up to her vagina. This is the time when women wished they did have eyes in the back of her head, oh, but surely that would give her away. This is you on your way to work. But from the other side of things, twenty paces in front, you are Jack the Ripper. Picture all the noir films you ever saw, they could only wish to achieve tension quite is thick as this. Really I should’ve been wearing my trench coat and trilby hat to sustain full effect.
Then I’m on the next shift and it just so happens that this very same woman is taking the same route at the very same time down the very same street. Whether she worked far from myself or not wasn’t the question I was to ask. Instead I gallop up real close and clutch her arm. I let go in order to stop the screaming and offer up a conversation. When I say let go I mean pin her up down the nearest blind spot and cover her mouth. So I’m telling her the truth. I’m telling her because she needs to know. I couldn’t spend another night walking behind her and smelling the paranoia drift from her thoughts. If only all men could tell the truth on a regular basis? This; is the long run, would make matters worse in most departments but in this situation it was a necessity. That face of hers showed an awful lot of confusion, I’ll give her that. But I finished the conversation with a smile and I watched the woman’s paranoia turn into relief. I felt like I had planted another tree in the rainforest, I felt like I had saved the checkout girl using an extra plastic bag, I felt polar bears were hunting just fine again.
This wasn’t the last time I was up to this. Not with the sense of accomplishment being so rewarding. Addiction would have been in the wrong place had it been used because I wasn’t depending on it. It was all depending on whether a girl was walking in front of me.
Fast forward to the part where my ex has a new boyfriend. She throws round that arm of hers round his and I know she’s not drunk. That poor guy has to go through the same as I did. Then she’s turning off down a different street to myself and I shout, “Get yourself to the doctors dude, get that arm checked out.”