Nelson Galaxy

Well, my Friday evening of loving possibility rapidly descended into disappointment and frustration, with an extra helping of violence and threat. I ran away and nothing happened. I told you so.

I was just reaching the optimum moment of opportunity to start my suave move; it was late, there were not many people around and I was suitably drunk. Leaning towards the figure of my affection, I was about to use my “Do you like cheese?” chat up line.

However, I was greeted with an unexpected tirade of hatred. Not from the Scandinavian beauty I had an eye for but from a gentleman sat directly in front of me.

I had not noticed him before but he suddenly became very animated and offensive. His vicious vitriolic attack was of a very personal nature. He was calling me all kinds of names, commenting on my long hair and clothes.

He took offence to the fact that I was wearing eyeliner, making aspersions towards my sexuality. He was obviously jealous of my good looks. His face looked like he had recently been involved in a nasty car accident.

I did not want to become involved in this attack and refused to react. I turned my face away and ignored him, looking at the lady whom I had hopes of impressing. She looked at me with pity and an ounce of spite, not impressed with my pacifistic turning of the other cheek. Her eyes said, “Grow a pair Nelson and smash his face in.”

With shock I realised he was gesticulating with his empty pint glass, poking it into my face, threatening to splinter the glass into my skull. I was unaware of what I could have done to provoke him. I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease so I may have said something inappropriate to upset him. Or maybe he was just an idiot.

“Now is a good time to leave,” I thought. I showed a clean pair of heels and disappeared into the night. Opportunity well and truly missed. Next time, maybe next time.