So my dear friend L no longer lives with us, and has set up a happy home with her girlfriend E, just a minute’s walk from our old shared house. I’ve been to visit a couple of times thus far, mostly to pick up things of mine that I left behind and she rescued for me.
Sunday before work, I ran round in the pouring rain only to end up sitting on her well-covered balcony as she smoked. Smokers being as they are, we were out there a couple of times in a relatively short visit. I innocently remarked about the guy in the silver car who had been parked all this time in the rain. We just thought he was overly patient to wait for anyone this long. His face was obscured by the tint at the top of the windscreen, and catching a glimpse of his hand in his lap meant nothing to either of us.
But he was back yesterday evening, in the full glare of the weak-ass sunshine. And any movements were less innocent and more in the ham-shank variety, if you catch my drift. In the middle of this quiet suburban street, and in plain view if anyone bothered to peer down from their balcony, as we did.
So E was dispatched, in her official capacity, to give him a telling off and call in the boys in blue if necessary. The peanut gallery of myself, L and Cat were chattering in outraged feminist ways, fuelled by righteous indignation and a large dose of being creeped out.
But he broke down and confessed to E that he didn’t know what he was up to, he was just so extremely lonely, living alone and with nobody to talk to. It’s not an excuse, and she could have had him nicked there and then (he really did pick the wrong flat to do that in front of). I’m sure E sees her fair share of chancers, weirdos and flimsy excuses in an average day, and so I deferred to her judgement.
It really upset me though, I was fighting back tears in the cold, guitar slung across my back like a bad Johnny Cash impersonation (yeah, I left it behind, but on purpose). To think that someone could be reduced to that, to be so desperate for human contact, to approximate that with a real interaction, it really saddens me. Teetering on the brink of another depressive (yawn) episode, it threatened to push me over. It should make me reevaluate, count my own blessings. Instead I’m morose and hoping that we haven’t inadvertently let some perv loose on society, all the while pitying him with an intensity that isn’t necessary for a stranger. Weird, no?
And on the flip side, Ikea now deliver to our postcode. No more timeloss shopping in their rabbit warrens. Click and buy, baby!