Try a Little Tinderness.

I love my noise-cancelling headphones. I wear them every time I go out and it means I don’t have to hear any sound made by any other human (other than, at the moment, Lou Reed). I also wear a blindfold and a nose clip for similar reasons. When I leave the house, I just don’t want to ever have to acknowledge that people actually exist. They’re awful. They make horrible noises and they all look and smell like shit. Every single one of them. But, you know, even I have to admit that sometimes by blocking out all the senses (I also wear a full body sock and a tongue hat), I’m missing out on some beautiful real-life stories. Take Friday night for example…

There I was, sitting in a bar in South East London minding my own business when I heard the unmistakable noise of a human being. It was loud and shrill and ugly. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the man’s conversation, he insisted on it. He wasn’t even sat particularly near me, but I could hear every word he was saying because he was shouting over the sound of a pub stereo that wasn’t playing. This was a perfect time for me to put on my headphones, but the man caught my interest. I even wrote down a few things that he said because I never wanted to forget them. He was bellowing at a woman and it was the most bizarre seduction I had witnessed that entire day.

“I don’t want to pay pub prices anymore”, he honked at her. “You’re more than welcome to join me in my flat where I have many wines. Some of them actually good wines. But it is a long walk away and up a steep hill and that might be tough for someone like you (he means she’s a bit fat) but I like your company and I’m leaving now”.

I couldn’t hear what she said to him, but I happily imagined that it was very, very threatening. Of course, this is really very snobby of me. I’m probably taking everything he said out of context. Maybe he did just want to have a glass of wine? Maybe he’s just a bit gruff but really he’s the absolute salt of the earth? I’m sure he doesn’t really think that people who are a bit fat can’t walk up a hill. No. I’m sure I’ve got it all wrong. But then he got a bit louder.

“I’m going to the toilet and then I’ll leave”, he announced to absolutely everyone in the world. “If you could make your mind up by the time I get back then there’s no hassle. If you want to get an Uber, then you can do that. But I’m leaving. If you want to join me, I’m fine either way. I have wine and a nice bed. Up to you. I’m bursting”.

And with those sweet words of love, he departed for a slash.

That man will be alone forever, I thought. I mean, I know it’s hard to talk to someone you fancy but ordering them about isn’t going to help. And now she’s alone while he has his ultimatum piss, this is her chance to just get up and leave. Why spend another second with that dick. Just go.

But she stays. And he comes back.

He doesn’t leave though. He sits down and shouts a bit more instead. He lists the wines he has. It turns out that he might have five bottles of wine. Now that’s hot. Again, he asks if she’s coming or not? That is such a smooth move. Then he talks about his very high cholesterol. Bragging, yes, but anything to impress a lady, right? Anything to seduce her back to his love pad. Anything to capture the heart of his prey. He told her that he knew he had high cholesterol because of his HIV test.

Now, I might not be Velvet P. Lovewanger (I bloody am), but even I’m not sure that bringing up your high cholesterol and your HIV test on a date is a guaranteed fuck-ticket. To be fair, honesty is very refreshing when on a date. But I know more about him than I need to know and I’m not even going to get a choice of five wines and a terrible shag out of it.

He then just repeated “I’m going. Up to you” at her while putting on his coat. He must have said it 10 times. “I’m going. Up to you. I’m going. Up to you. I’m going. Up to you”. And then they left together.

That woman is going to have a terrible night. I felt depressed.

Which was unfair. Because I don’t really know what happened. I just picked up what was going on from the things he shouted and the way he shouted them. I didn’t hear a single thing she said. Maybe I’ve got it all out of context and everything is totally fine. Maybe they’re in his nice bed right now, laughing and drinking one of five wines and ripping each other’s clothes off in a fit of genuinely deep, romantic passion. Then why do I feel sad? Why do I feel sad for someone I don’t know? Why didn’t I just put my headphones on?

Then she came back into the bar, laughing down her mobile phone. “WHAT A WANKER!”, she said.

And she said it a lot to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “WHAT A WANKER!”.

20 minutes later, another woman turns up and joins her at her table. They laugh and drink and they both say “WHAT A WANKER!”

I’ve decided that this is my feel good story of the year. It certainly made me very happy. Sometimes you just have to leave the headphones off. Sometimes. Otherwise I’d have missed out on a bit of real life. A dirty, sleazy tale. A scary one. A sad one. But one with a very happy ending. What would Lou Reed know about any of that?

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