“Look, you know what the reason for all of this stuff in the first place is, yeah? It’s these two things you’ve got stuck on the sides of your head… They’re your ears, and you never bloody use them. What? No, just listen. Listen for once in your life. Stop talking over me. You know what, I’m done with this. I’m done.”
And so another relationship comes to an untimely demise on public transport, as I was witness to last week. I couldn’t decide if this guy genuinely wasn’t aware that I could hear his half of the phone conversation, or if he was deliberately being loud to make a point. Namely, that his (now ex) girlfriend is some kind of screeching harpy with an inability to retain salient information. That is your own fault, matey boy, for choosing a woman based solely on her looks and neglecting to wait until she’s, y’know, opened her mouth or anything important like that.
That actually wasn’t the first time that I’ve overheard a couple breaking up on a bus. There was one many years ago that’s stuck with me, because it was agony for everyone involved. I remember getting on and sitting behind the two of them near the start of the route, and they were sickeningly happy enough. We had a quick chat about whether the bus driver knew where he was supposed to be going. It turned out that he didn’t, we all chortled as the three-point turn was hastily made, and on we went.
An hour into the journey and they’re arguing in not-so-hushed voices about whether or not he’s been texting some other woman. This wouldn’t have been so bad a crime in itself, if not for the fact that this dumbass kept changing his story. He doesn’t know her. They’ve only met three times. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t sleep with her. More than once. Sitting there as his girlfriend cried (oh God, she sounded like a wounded seal) and he sat in awkward, unrepentant silence for 20 minutes felt like an eternity.
I think that break ups in public are the worst. This has never happened to me, as I tend to get dumped in the privacy of someone else’s home and then promptly booted out of it. When you’re as easily upset as I am and can’t walk properly while bawling your eyes out, the ‘walk of shame’ takes on a whole new meaning.
My advice to anyone thinking of leaving their partner during a bus journey – if you absolutely have to – is to time it well. Either make a clean break and hop off somewhere convenient, like a speed dating event, or make sure you can bundle your crying ex straight to their front door or angry parents.
And don’t break up on the top deck – someone’s going to get hurt on the way down, and it’ll probably be you.
