It was a freezing cold Monday morning when I boarded the train and
spotted a familiar face sitting in the corner engrossed in a book. I
shuffled over and plonked myself down opposite her. She looked up from
her book and smiled at me. We did the usual "oh my word! I haven't
seen you for ages!" chitchat and she put her book away.
I hadn't seen her in almost 2 months and although we didn't know
each other very well, there was a connection that people have from
similar experiences.
The topic turned to men. She had been dumped, not for any particular reason other than "it wasn't going anywhere". She was now in the anger stage and was having vivid, angry fantasies about getting some novice cellists, or just anyone off the street would do,to pitch up at her ex's flat at 3am every morning for a week, and just practice.
I decided that I had to intervene. Not only would she most likely get into trouble with the police, but her ex was my neighbour.
We spoke a lot about how things change and how people change and in the
end decided that she should continue with her therapy and that I
should probably start.
So, next time you want to throttle someone, find someone else who's
been there and listen to how idiotic and hilarious in is in retrospect
and it may just save you from having to fix your dancing shoes from
frantic midnight escapades in the mud. Ahem.
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