Perhaps...

the post below requires some explanation, even if it isn't something I haven't said before.

I'd spent a lovely day with the lady. And rounded it off with a rather special evening, lying in her lap on one of the benches by the river. Cherished moments of blubbering incoherence, with a person equally adept and willing to blubber right back at you.





So special that it was about three in the morning when we decided to head home.





At the bus stop (so she tells me, I was half asleep), this chap walked by and looked at her and smiled. Not sensing much, she smiled back. He then came and sat next to her, rather close. She didn't seem to sense anything because he tried to chat up a girl on his other side. They may have known each other. I was oblivious to anything but the need to get to a bed very very quickly.





Eventually the bus came by. An empty bus. N29, Trafalgar Square to Wood Green. We picked two of the seats in the front half of the bus. And I promptly nodded off.



About ten minutes later the girl poked me on the shoulder. "Wake up, we're almost there." I looked around annoyed. "No we're not". And went back to sleep.



"Wake up!" she said, about five minutes later. I looked at her intensely annoyed. She's the kind who'd show up for something an hour in advance just in case an earthquake happened to delay her.



"OK, could you stay awake, this guy opposite me has been eyeing me ever since we got on the bus."



There are some ways you can guarantee the boyfriend stays awake.



The guy had come down and sat right opposite us. Which was a little strange in a near empty bus, where people would usually just pick their spots, like we did. And he was looking at her. Up and down. With no attempt at camouflage of any kind. It didn't seem to matter that she could see it all.



And it got worse. He started licking his lips and sat with his legs apart, rearranging his crotch.



I would have posed no threat to a man like that. Nearly twice my size, and with a look about him that was more than a litte hooliganish. Eyeing my girlfriend from underneath his hood. The Bastard.



What does one do?



I thought of eyeballing the man, letting him know that what he was doing was not going unnoticed. But I didn't think it would matter to him. I also did not want to get into a fight with this man. I'm bigger than most Indian men. Definitely most South Indian men. It helps when home. In this country, I'm more the average.



Eyeballing might have antagonised him. God knows, he might have been looking for a fight. I'm not very good in fights anyway. Never have been. He could have been carrying a knife.



Yeah.



I don't give off the mean thug vibe. I don't look scary. (Yes, the irony)



I didn't know what to do. These buses don't have conductors. Just a driver and CCTV.



I've been in these situations before. Slapped around and shoved by people stronger than me. I could take it. My blood boiled, but I can take it and accept it as part of life. I'm generally more cavalier with my own health.



I've never been in a situation where somebody I cared about was threatened. The thought of anything happening to her was terrifying. More terrifying than anything I've ever felt before. And much more.



Sitting as close to her without betraying the fact that we felt obviously threatened, feigning nonchalance, and keeping an eye on how far his knees were from hers, there was this overwhelming feeling of...impotence. Not being able to protect the ones you love. Its hard. Watching him lay claim to the idea that he could do what he wanted, and my only option was to give him an excuse to escalate things, or not.



Sigh. So much for the perfect day. We reached our bus stop. Got up and left.



She's safe. I held her for so long. More for me than her.



She got over it quickly. Happens all the time. She's learned to live with it. What can you do, she says. She's learned to live with physical threats. I haven't. I don't know if I want to. She asks me what the solution is? To intimidate a man like that, I have to be a man like that.

Bleh. I don't feel like writing anymore. This post has been in the works for far too long, and the anger has faded. I've some cold rage left over but its not enough to write coherently. I wanted to say that I searched my feelings and found that the one thing I wanted, more than anything else was to keep the girl safe. I wanted to lock her away in a prison where I knew no one could get at her. The way she dresses won't matter, unless she and everybody else wears a burqa.

I was quite shocked with myself when I reached that conclusion. I'd explain further how I got there and why I got there but that's the gist of it. To be continued...or elaborated...if I feel like it.