Jerry Springer on the buses

I sat beside a woman on the bus the other morning.  The bus was very crowded and there was a man standing with his back to me, seemingly unaware that he was squashing me.  I commented on this to the woman beside me as I leant closer to her.  She responded with a question.

"Is he cute?"

I had no way of knowing as all I could see was the expanse of his back covered in a hairy jumper.  I just smiled and shook my head.  I thought it unlikely that a man who was oblivious to the people around him would be in any way attractive.  And there was the hairy jumper to consider.

The woman then went on to tell me about how she had met one of her boyfriends when he literally bumped into her in the street.  It was an accident and he asked if he could take her out for a drink.

It was 8:15 in the morning and I was trying to stay in my seat without dying from inhalation of the hairy jumper fibres and was also off to attend a course so was thinking about the day ahead.  I didn't really know where my stop was either and so was trying to pay attention to where I was. The woman's voice was soft and the bus was loud.  I couldn't really hear everything she was saying to me, so this story may be completely made up.

She then went on to tell me that they had the worst sex she had ever had.  When she said "worst" she meant really, really bad.  The look on her face and the level of disclosure so far made me fear that I was about to find out more than I wanted to know.  The man in question apparently had an oddly shaped stomach and she didn't really like him, but thought she'd "give him a go".

Give him a go?  Like buying a new brand of tomato sauce or a different variety of bread.  These are things that you "give a go", not sex with a man who bumped into her on the street (who wasn't George Clooney or Johnny Depp or Hugh Jackman.)

Anyway, she continued by then suggesting that I should approach Hairy Jumper Man. Perhaps I could give him a go.  Was I sitting there radiating some kind of lonely woman vibe?   Thankfully she left at the next stop.  There was something about the intimacy of the crowded bus that stopped me just telling her to be quiet, that I wasn't interested in discussing her sex life and that I couldn't really hear what she was saying anyway.  Or perhaps I just kept listening because I knew it would give me a story to tell.