What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this..?
Early November last year I was sectioned and admitted into an adolescent psychiatric hospital. To put it fairly bluntly and not reveal too much, I'm not just a few sandwiches short, I've forgotten the hamper and the picnic can frankly be buggered for all I care, I have elephants to ride and a country to rule I'll have you know.

Anyway, I was wrenched out of my natural environment in a suicidal state (thanks in part to the ex, daughter of Satan that at 5'5" terrified my hulking form with her moodswings) and manhandled by the oink into a nice little semi-secure unit somewhere in Greater Manchester via a hospital waiting room (approx 15 hours, no bed, one room about 6 paces by 5, a plastic chair for comfort and two coppers outside the door, yours for just the small one-time payment of your sanity!) and a secure shithole overnight - for being unable to move my arms and therefore jumped on by four coppers (2525, I know you're out there somewhere and I will never forget your collar dog you scumbag cunt - IPCC are shit, mob justice isn't, wall revolution etc).

Life goes on, I make a few friends in my new home and begin to fall into the routine of things - there was even a school, which was handy to allay boredom but fairly irritating as it was compulsory (at 17). My observation order (section 2) ran its 28-day course and I decided to stay as an in-patient to work out what the deal with my head was - at some point anyway, I distracted my psychs when they asked questions, maintained a facade of bubbly happiness and carried on keeping everything all bottled up. It got to mid-January, as my growing tendency towards misogyny began to gather steam, when I met K.

I remember sitting in the lounge in the afternoon next to my mate D (an old hand at this lark and a jolly decent young chap) and seeing K for the first time. A vision of radiance in a baggy hoody. I told D that he could fuck right off or he could help me, his choice. She'd been admitted a few hours beforehand, knew no-one and was looking rather sheepish. I smiled at her and she smiled back, albeit whilst looking for the nearest exit. I pointed at Token Mentalist from my answer here and made a wanker sign on the sly as a heads-up. K then took this as me just being generally horrible and abusive and gave me a filthy look, until my knight in shining armour D having seen all this shouted across the room "NO REALLY, SHE'S A PROPER CUNT!"

His way with words salvaged the moment - she laughed and we all continued to chat; I was infatuated, and probably made a bit of a prick of myself, the exact topics of conversation now escape me. We were allowed mobile phones without a camera, and so D swiftly (at my unspoken request... a simple shift of the eyebrow was all at took) got her number as a "giz a text if you need anything"... which I then robbed off his phone, "for, y'know, just in case like."

That evening, after lights out, I was texting K for what seemed like hours. We arranged that she would come to my room in the morning (strictly Not Allowed, regardless of gender of occupants, however I neglected to mention this) for general chatting and to give me a chance to show off my muscular form (read: emaciated, 11 stone, 6 foot 8 wreck... actually probably closer to 12st by this point) in just a pair of pyjama bottoms...

Suitably impressed by the next morning's display, we were practically inseparable until I left the unit in April. We have now been together almost 12 months (both discharged for the last 6), are gradually recovering together (with a few hiccups), have never argued once, and are madly hopelessly in love with each other. I always say the sanest girl I've ever met was in a psych ward. Just shows how something good can come from such a shit situation.

There's a lot more to the story than this (you'd be surprised what you can get up to with a mischievous mind in hospital) that'll possibly be posted in future QOTWs - one week in that place is seriously a lifetime of the answers, I've got six months under my belt.

How does this relate? I've never explicitly asked her out. Technically we're just really good friends.

Sorry, no pun, and the doctor won't prescribe me any length jokes.

PS It's late, I apologise for any grammar/ spelling mistakes.
(hypnoticme is an anarcho-syndicalist commune, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 8:47, 6 replies)

This is a superb story mate
I'm quite gutted I missed your last one when it first came round, as I think it's superb.

Greater Manchester is shit at pretty much everything though, not surprised you weren't happy!
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 9:35, closed)

you got me
i was racking my brains for films about people being sectioned, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, 12 Monkeys... couldn't find anything that fit and was surprised to see it's actually a real answer. Good double bluff. Oh, and *click* for coming across as one of the more together and sane seeming people on here.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 9:39, closed)

Cheers guys
Nice to know someone actually reads my egotistical bullshit. I might write a book one day. Click 'I like this' up yonder if you'd buy it. Merry consumerist-bullshit-stolen-pagan-rites from me and hypnoticmrs.
(hypnoticme is an anarcho-syndicalist commune, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 9:53, closed)

.
I'd buy your book.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 10:07, closed)

Fantastic story
All the best mate!
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 10:09, closed)

All the best to you
and the Mrs.
My fiance has dabbled with the "system" (was very loopy when he was younger, he "danced" with a group of coppers too ;) ) and my best friend (not around anymore, high dive off her ninth story balcony) was a member of the ECT Club, so I can appreciate the fact that something good has come out of all the shit you guys experienced.

Merry Fookin' Christmas to yer !
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 10:15, closed)