A Man Not Afraid To Wear His Authentic Self In Front Of Strangers, or …….

Anyone who has read a number of my pieces will know that I detest small talk and as your classic introvert, I’m also totally hopeless at it.

The asking of questions you do not, under any circumstances, want answered…………it makes no sense to me!

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I was on my way to the office yesterday, leaving home to walk to the train station less than 300 metres down the road. The train pulled in as I got to the station, so I was able to board immediately. A man followed behind me onto the train carriage.

I sat on the right side of the train and heard the man behind me ask me if he could sit opposite me on the left side of the train. There’s an aisle between us so I’m not sure why he was asking.

I responded saying, “of course.”

This is where I obviously got it right……….or did I actually get it wrong?

This man responded, “sorry it’s just some people are funny, you know because I have tatts.”

I glanced at his tattoos, noting that he has about half the tattoos that my youngest son has — which I gifted to my son at least half the tattoo he wears — so who was I to judge.

At this point the man starting talking — I was pleasantly surprised that it was definitely not small talk — and for the next fifteen minutes, I discovered the following :

* His name (of course)

* He is the same age as me except he will turn another year older in the first few days of January

* He is 6’1” tall

* He has two older brothers who are between 6’5” and 6’7” tall and they always bullied him as a child

* He practiced some form of martial arts for four years but kept it a secret from his brothers. It helped him put the bullying to bed

* He is of German and Scandinavian descent

* His mother is Scandinavian and her name

* His father is German and a scary man, weighing in at 220 kg — but not fat— on his 6’9” frame

* He is a tattoo artist

* He was a great football and cricket player until he damaged his shoulder

* He had been on TV when he was twenty eight, for helping a woman during a bank robbery

* He lost the love of his life five years ago to diabetes — she’d been sneaking chocolate behind his back

* Where his ex girlfriend from 40 years ago was now working and that she is still gorgeous and looks ten years younger than she is

* He taught himself to play the drums and had played locally with a number of bands

* His grandma passed away twenty five years ago

* His mother then brought the grandmother’s house

* His mother is not well and he fears for her health — he believes she has started to give up

* He adores his mother — admitting she taught him everything he knows

* His mother is a Mormon.

All in the space of fifteen minutes.

His next words were, “I’m staying down the road here at my mate, Jeff’s house. Jeff is in his sixties and is starting to lose it but he loves his music.”

That’s when I knew it was time to extract myself from this conversation and I was thankful he talked so much that I hadn’t had a chance to say much of anything at all — not even my name.

The last thing I was going to tell him was that Jeff is my neighbour!

The neighbour that does love his music…….24/7 and loud……….but you can, at times still hear screaming and swearing over the top of the music, or on the odd occasion it is turned down. He owns his house but has a revolving door for people coming and going. My neighbour is also consistently visited by the police and no they are not friends either.

And lastly, my neighbour who is rarely coherent, or anywhere near sober enough to understand!

This man on the train was either the most authentic human being I’ve ever met, or ……………. he is an amazing storyteller!

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Originally posted on Medium