Viewpoints

I was first to arrive at the pub. It was important that I shouldn't
be late, thereby adding insult to the considerable injury I was
intending to do him. And if I had been on time we might both have
walked in together, meaning he would buy me a drink. It puts one at a
disadvantage, telling a person that you never want to see them again
whilst drinking the pint they have just bought for you. So I made sure
I was ten minutes early. I have some experience in these matters.

We'd been planning to see a film so I had checked out what was showing
and read all the reviews, thinking about which one she'd most like.
Nothing trashy, an arthouse film probably, maybe foreign with
subtitles. She was already there when I got to the pub and her drink
was full so I went straight to the bar. I didn't have any idea.

Sunday afternoon is always slow, and I watch people for something to do
while I'm clearing glasses and cleaning the bar. She came in on her
own, bought a pint of Kronenberg. About ten minutes later he walked in
and joined her. They weren't obviously a couple, they didn't kiss or
hug or anything. Working in a bar it's amazing how many couples you see
who don't even seem to like each other much. My girlfriend and I, we
don't go to the pub very often; by the time I finish here the last
thing I want to do is sit around breathing stale beery fumes, and
watching the punters get loud and obnoxious kind of puts you off the
whole thing. It'd be a good job for a recovering alcoholic, I always
think. But anyway, when we do meet up somewhere she always gives me a
smile and a kiss and I make sure she knows I'm happy to see her too. He
was drinking Guiness, the bloke.

God, I hate doing this. Why can't you just look at them, and they know,
and then they leave and that could be it? I am nice to people, I don't
tell lies about them behind their backs, or the truth to their faces if
I know it will upset them. I haven't hurt anyone since I was eight
years old and I kicked my brother so hard he cried for an hour, tears
of fury that anyone could inflict such pain on him. Grown up people
don't do that to each other as a rule. The only person who can hurt you
like that is the one that you've chosen to let inside. Which is of
course what makes it such a betrayal, and makes you cry those angry,
disbelieving tears. Look at me, I'm shaking. How ridiculous.

I thought we were fine. That's what I told her, it's true, I had
thought we were getting on really well. I didn't tell her everything. I
didn't tell her that she was the person I had always wanted to meet,
that I was in love with her and had been since the start. It was hard
to sit there and keep drinking, I had to concentrate on not missing my
mouth and spilling beer all over myself. Give her credit, she came
straight out with it. But she looked so dishonest, she wouldn't meet my
eyes, and I thought, if only you'd just look at me you could see what
I'm feeling, and I know you'd feel it too. Just let yourself feel it
too. But she wouldn't let me in.

You can always tell when it's a break-up scene. Say he's breaking up
with her: usually she starts to cry, he maybe puts his arm round her,
comforts her a bit, then he'll hustle her out of there as soon as he
can: he just wants to get away. Well, I know; I've done it myself more
than once... If she's splitting up with him it's different. She'll sit
there for hours while he tries to talk her out of it. Sometimes he does
talk her out of it. Usually they'll leave when he realises he's about
to make a fool of himself. He'll never let himself cry in front of her,
never. If it happens like that with Suzy I'll know as soon as I look at
her, know straight away.

I know the stages. First: but I thought we were getting on so well!
Next: what exactly has gone wrong? If I just know what the problem is
we can fix it, I'm sure. Then maudlin: I don't understand, it could
have been so good... He starts pleading. This is undignified. I would
do anything to get out of here, not to have to sit here maintaining an
apologetic-yet-determined face and watching him keep it together, but I
know I have to wait for phase four: the anger. They always get angry,
and if I don't take it now he'll be on my doorstep tomorrow. He has to
let it spill out in a vicious, toxic mess it or it'll curdle inside
him. It has to be somebody's fault; might as well be mine.

How can she be so frustrating? She isn't trying, she knows we could
have something special and she'd rather throw it all away than give us
a go, she'd rather just throw me away. I wish she'd never started this.
I wish that the first time she smiled at me, the first time she spoke
to me, I had cut her dead. She's been thinking about it for weeks; why
couldn't she have done it before, before she made me feel this way? Or
why can't she give it another chance, just for a couple of weeks? Can't
she have some faith in us? How dare she offer me her friendship after
this? I can't look at her any more.

That's it. He's had enough. That look, they all have it; like they
can't decide whether to hit the girl or fall to their knees and beg.
Never actually seen anyone do either, but I'm sure it happens. She'd
probably prefer to be hit. There's nothing girls hate more than a bloke
without self respect, and at least if he hit her he'd be the bad guy,
and she wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore.

The relief, when he goes. It's over. I don't feel good, not yet, but I
know I'll be walking home and everything will suddenly be lighter and
the wind will blow my hair all about and I'll realise I've done it and
I'm free. I watch the door bang shut, and I sit there for maybe another
five minutes while I finish my drink, and then I get up and put on my
jacket and leave.