We had a meet cute, John & I. We were at the train station, both trying to swipe our tickets and we couldn’t get through the barrier. “This one obviously doesn’t like us very much.” He had smiled at me after we had both tried and embarrassingly been rebuffed. I was going home early form work that day because I had a splitting headache so it was the middle of the day and station was deserted.
“Excuse me, we’re both having trouble coming through” He called out to a station guy? Guard? Patroller of the station? Train Officer? Who knows what that career path is called.
This genius’s solution was that there must be an error & we should just jump the rail. I was in heels, I had an overflowing handbag with work I was taking home & a laptop satchel, ugliest damn bag ever created. John just jumped, with ease. He was just a little bit taller than me, with dark scruffy short cut hair and lovely eyebrows, that on any other person would look obscene, but for some reason on him the bushiness just worked. He had lovely tan skin & as he humiliatingly helped me over the guard rail, I decided he had very kind eyes & I really, really wanted to see him again. In fact, I wanted to have lots of sex and babies with him & those eyes.
I am obvs a crazy person.
He helped me over & carried my bag & kindly didn’t look while I tried to, failing, not to show the whole station my knickers. We both walked to the same platform & then sat on the same bench waiting for the same train on the same line. As I said, I am crazy & decided it was all fate & he was my dream guy and it was all meant to be. Thank fuck for my headache.
He chatted just as much as I did, and was super animated, what station do you get off at, where are you from, what do you do, can I get your number? Fuck yes. So that’s where we started, he took me out for dinner a few nights later & then a few days after that we went for drinks & had great sex at my apartment, yes two dates deep, who cares, I count the meeting as a first. So really, you judgy assholes, its three.
Then we went on a few more dinners and movies always followed by great sex, over the next few weeks. I was charmed. Seriously charmed AF. I thought this guy was the bees knees, the cats pyjamas, all that jazz. His eyebrows just got even more and more attractive.
John was thirty two, perfect age. Owned a very trendy cafe in my local area, and liked to swim in the ocean every morning at like 5am before work. There’s something really sexy about that whole ice swimming, my body is a temple, licking salt off him before he showers thing.
So it’s been over a month, and I still haven’t been to his cafe, he leaves that morning after some very lovely slow sex. That super nice Sunday morning light and airy before coffee sex. And he was sweet and kissing my neck and making me laugh and whispering. So my friend and I are meeting for a Sunday morning ‘gym day’? Lies, such fucking lies. We just went in the gym and sat chatting on the bikes while kind of pedalling & then totally changing our mind & going for brunch instead. Best. Plan. Even.
So in our active wear, with zero sweat she’s all like “Let’s go to John’s cafe!” And in my tiny endorphin rush after pedalling like nowhere, I say “Yes!”. Because A) I’ve never been there & B) I’m super proud I’m not dating an asshole & I want to show him off.
So we go, and we get a seat out the front, and it’s just the best cafe, cute baristas, everyone has some kind of fancy poached egg. Its has exposed brick walls & miss-matched chairs & people on their mac books with huge coffees & chilled out music. And the two of us are sitting there looking at the menu and I’m thinking, I love this guy, look at his life & all our sex and the neck kissing, I totally love him. I wanted to be a part of it, I adored that I was dating the guy who owned the cafe & I was about to order some kind of wanky avocado with pomegranate thing form his menu!
And then, this heavily pregnant woman walks in.
And she’s curvy & struggling with the pregnant-ness. She holding her lower back & waddling & she’s red in the face but smiling. And then one Barista calls out the back & my John comes jogging to the front of the cafe, he’s wearing what he put on that morning in my apartment & he’s kissing her with his hand on her belly. “Hey baby, and baby”. And I’m invisible, and my friend is watching the scene, looking at him and her and the ring on her finger and then back to my face and then them again.
And I get up and walk out and he doesn’t even see me.
It’s not until after this happens and your friend is chasing you down the street in silence, holding you bag & looking worried, that a lot of things start to fall in to place. Like the fact he always stayed at my house, that he always had to leave incredibly early for his morning ocean swims, the he was rushed off his feet at work & couldn’t meet me, that he always showered at my house. That he couldn’t always stay because of his early mornings at the cafe, that I couldn’t come to the cafe because I’d be bored because he’d be working.
And I walked around with all this bravado, like “I don’t even care” and “He’s an asshole.” But I swear I cried, boy did I cry and I couldn’t close my eyes for ages without seeing her happy, pregnant, red face.
What a glorious dick stain.