Bang! - Chapter 1

The third time Philla saw me, she exploded.

I’m not being metaphorical. We often hear of someone “exploding with emotion” or we read that “he exploded with anger”, but in this case it was much more literal: she simply exploded. In pieces. Within about a fifteen foot radius. There was no warning to this sudden detonation – no ticking, no countdown, just well…bang.

Why am I telling you this? What has it got to do with me? You see, I’m responsible. I’m guilty. It’s all my fault really, I should have seen it coming. But it is fair to say that this time, love actually was blind. I’d willingly hold my hands up, yell “It was me” from the highest rooftop, but to tell you the truth I don’t even feel sorry. Had it been the second time she saw me…well, maybe then, but not now. Now all I feel is a faint tinge of regret and slightly cracked ribs where a portion of her shoulder hit me. Nothing more.

Have you ever fancied someone so much that you treated them badly?

You don’t know what I mean, do you? What I mean is, do you remember that person that you were friends with, but secretly fancied? The old story of the one that wants to be just friends, and you make out that this is in some way a good idea. You go out to pubs and cinemas and things like that, and all the time you’re hoping they will suddenly turn round and say “Hang on! You’re bloody lovely” I’d never noticed you before!”. Of course in the ‘Real World’ this never happens, and instead you follow them round doggedly, trying to please them, and being told that you’re “so nice”. After a while, you become frustrated by this, even annoyed that they haven’t fallen in love with you, or even noticed you in that way. If you saw them with someone else you felt betrayed, despite the fact that you have absolutely no claim on them. And so one day you turn. You snap. You bawl at them for no reason. Perhaps you pick a fault in them, tell them they’ve always been selfish. In short, you treat them badly. Would it be fair to say that you always hurt the one you love, or would it fit better to say that you always hurt the one you’re secretly infatuated with?

What does this seemingly private rant have to do with anything? If we were at a party, would you back away politely to go and get another cheese-and-pineapple-on-a-stick? I’m telling you all this because it’s how we started. Our relationship was only three dates long (and the third was pretty instantaneous – “BANG!”), but in my mind we had been together for years.

You see, really, this isn’t about her exploding, and it doesn’t make any difference that they had to use three separate plastic bags to carry her away. Or that you can still see the stain stretched out across the kerb. No, this is a story about love. The power of love. And that’s where the story starts.