Harry Bath - A Walking & Talking Disaster (Chapters 1-19)

REVELATIONS - PART 3

Why hello there, my name is Harry Bath, and if my life was a book, it would be called '50 Shades of Shit'. With just some of those shades including shame, embarrassment, and virginity.

For those who haven't been following the story, at this point in my life I was a 16 year old studying his A-Levels at Hall Cross Academy, I had 4 close friends, (one of which who slammed doors in my face to amuse himself), and I'd quickly built myself a reputation as a fish murdering common room vigilante.

It gets worse. I'd also just found out that my Girlfriend of a month of a half has a 10 month old daughter.

In the days following Sofia's revelation, I had a lot on my plate. I had mine and Jack's friendship to mend, I had a job that required me to scrub stale dog piss off of barrels, and I also had a super-hard time trying to convince my Media class that Miley Cyrus is a nasty whore who should be hung publicly.

First there was 'Bieber Fever'. Then there was 'Direction Infection'. And in late 2013, the world was suffering from a massive case of the 'Cyrus Virus'. I honestly wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire.

I only succeeded at one of those things, but if anything is worth enduring the smell of crusty dog wee for, it's being friends with Jack. I was overwhelmed that he was back in my life, and I really wished that I could spend more of my precious thinking time relishing the moment.

Of course though, I was a little preoccupied. I didn't know what to do. Should I go along and play happy families? Should I run a mile? Should I drown myself? Oh, God, I was acting like a complete baby.

Oh fuck, there it is again. That word. Baby. I couldn't her out of my head. Or should I say them out of my head. My mind was all over the place. First the fish incident, then the angry outburst that was the Miley Cyrus saga. It was all turning to shit.

But as The Beatles so famously sang in their hit song, I was hoping to get by with a little help from my friends. Of course, if you know my friends, you'll know they can be colossal ass-hats.

I was a bit apprehensive about telling Tim, Brandon and Sid, but I felt I had to. How could I leave them out on such an important event? It was my duty to tell them, and in turn ask them what the fuck I should do.

So I did, and after a bit of:

"Oh shit"

And some:

"What the fuck?"

...the comments I got were interesting to say of the least.

Tim pointed out that I could now say I was dating a MILF, Brandon ended up laughing in either discomfort or hysteria, and Sid made a point of how huge her "fage" would be. 

Maybe The Beatles should've written a song called 'Tell your friends and watch them piss themselves for half an hour'

This was by far the most disastrous move I'd made yet. But I had to get it off my chest. The whole thing was fucking mental. If you'd just started going out with someone when suddenly they reveal they have a child, would you want to tell someone? Yes. Yes you fucking would. So by the time I'd told a few people, and those few people had told a few people and so on, it was too late to stop some arse hole walking up to Sofia and asking her about it.

To this day I don't know who did it, but someone was either stupid or mean enough to confront her about the situation, leaving me up shit creek once again. She believed that I had told everybody, when in reality I'd told my close friends who told their close friends, who'd told their close friends until eventually, somewhere along the line it got back to her. She was livid. She told me that she didn't expect to have to spell it out to me that I was not to tell anybody, and our relationship was a joke.

I had no answer for that. All I could say to her was that "things got out of hand". She was still really cross, as you would be, and for once in my life I had no claim as to how I was right that I could throw back in her face. I had fucked up big time.

We decided, (or rather she decided) that we should break up until we both got our heads straight. I tried apologising, pleading, begging, everything. But she told me that my reaction to her news was exactly what she expected, and if I ever wanted to be with her, I needed to understand that she comes as two.

I know I'd only be seeing her for 6 weeks. I know that I was only 16. I know that saying anything remotely heartfelt will look like complete and utter bollocks coming from the man who got thrown off a bus for insulting a pensioner (we'll get there, don't worry). But I can honestly say that I was heartbroken.

I really thought I had some sort of future with Sofia. Whatever it may have been, I was expecting something. And for once that something didn't involve strange noises and naked bodies. But what did involve just that, was my long hard cry in the shower the next morning.

The thing is, I don't really like to get too sensitive in front of people. I sometimes pretend to be so over the top and brash just to shake my true, often embarrassing emotions off. I often decide that I'd rather substitute stupid 'non-problems' into my life that don't matter just to turn the attention away from the things that make me sad. That's the reason why I love to rant about such pointless things. It's because I have so many things to get upset about, and it's just too much to deal with.

On my way home the next day, I ditched Tim and Brandon to take a walk by myself before I went to work.

I stopped by our spot outside the Police Station, because it was the one place where I felt I could think about the situation and nothing else. As I sat there, contemplating what the hell I was gonna do and say, a Policeman was presumably on his way to work when he stopped by and asked me what I was doing. I told him I was "just chilling" and he requested that I should go somewhere else. I stood up and started to leave, just as the Policeman said "cheer up lad, what's up with ya?" I simply replied "girl problems". And it was with this that he said I could stay where I was long as I didn't "cause a riot".

I stayed there for around 30 minutes before I plodded off to work with the mentality that no amount of dead fish or dog shit could make life worse.

When I sit and think about it, just like the Cyrus', Sofia had come in like a wrecking ball, broken my achey-brakey heart, and completely changed her personality in a split second.

But maybe, just maybe, I could get the best of both worlds.

Time would tell.

Thanks,

Harry.