Weird end to a lovely weekend
So i'd been seeing this girl, only for a month as that's how long she was temporarily working for the same company, and then she left to return home and pursue full time work in London. It was only a month but it was great, it's almost tragic but it's probably the best relationship I've ever had...she was beautiful, funny, and loved spending time with me. And the night-time sports were amazing. It was a connection that I'd not had before, or since for that matter. But alas, she went home. She cried and I cried (but only a little, honest) and we kept in touch.

A month or so later I arranged a weekend visit and booked a hotel for us both, and we spent an amazing weekend catching up...I'll let you use your imagination but it's basically the best weekend I've ever had. So it was a sad few hours when we had the chat at the train station before I boarded the train for the journey to Edinburgh. This is where the trouble starts.

So not only was I gutted, but there was railworks and my train was only going as far as (IIRC) Doncaster, where we would then be disembarking to wait for the next train which would take us to Newcastle. I would, of course, lose my allocated seat between Doncaster and Newcastle. So it was an hour in Doncaster, wishing I was still back in London in bed, in a dreary station before the train turned up.

It. Was. Rammed. I had to stand in the doorway/aisle area, beside the toilet, bags at my feet, with about 10 other people...and their bags. I was not fucking chuffed, and starting to really feel sorry for myself. It should have taken me four and a half hours to get home, and that time was almost up and I wasn't even in Scotland. And I'd maybe never see the best girlfriend I'd ever have again. Then, to top it all off, the meanest looking chav scumbag you've ever seen gets on and stands with us. Brilliant.

He was only about 5 foot 9, but had the whole 'white man who wants to be a 'gansta'' issue going on, ye know? Baseball cap pointing up, baggy jeans, showing his pants of course, and some really baggy baseball jersey of some sort. The piece de resistance was not the three cans of Stella he had with him (one in his hand, one in each pocket), nor the crazy always looking ahead and down the aisle stare he had, no it was the way he had a special holder for his mobile phone...a special holder that let him hang it round his neck. So that when he wanted to listen to 'fiddy cent' through his phone without headphones he could, but so did all the other unfortunate souls in the aisle at that moment.

He's lucky I'm not a violent man* because the way I felt at that moment, I could have ripped him apart (see * again). Instead, I turned up the volume on my mp3 player (through headphones, you ignorant cunt. DO YOU SEE? HEADPHONES!) and tried to ignore him, all the while exchanging rolls of the eyes with the other passengers.

He then started coming on to the girls that were there, this was after he'd polished off the 3rd can of Stella. Fortunately for them they got off at the next stop, as did half the train thus freeing up lots of seats. There was then a beautiful moment when he looked left and right as he chose where on the train to go for a seat, and everyone waited until he'd chosen - then went the other way. What an utter prick he was.**

It took me almost 9 hours to get home, on 3 trains, and I don't think I've ever felt so sorry for myself when I eventually got home.

She's going out with her ex again. Brilliant.



*actually he's lucky he looked mental and would probably have murdered me which is actually why I didn't do anything

** there was one moment of light relief however, when he was flicking through his 'choons', from fiddy, to eminem, to some dancy bollocks, and then to The Reflex by Duran Duran!!
(Zutroy started without you, Fri 30 May 2008, 11:03, Reply)