Meanwhile back in England my girlfriend was miserable and was shouting at me on facebook and via text. Why wasn’t I calling and texting her? I made my excuses. I was having a good time. She was not, she was ill, depressed and anxious. It felt like there was not much I could do thousands of miles away. I said I was looking forward to seeing her, but in truth I wanted to stay in New York and never return.
Now that I think about it I guess I wanted to leave her then not two years later. I sat next to my opportunity to leave her on the flight home. About an hour into the flight this lady leaned over and said she was scared of flying. We then spoke for the whole flight. We had an instant connection. It turned out she was on her way to London because her parents had been hit by a bus crossing the road on Regents street. They were both in a coma. She was a charity worker who helped children in South America. When we flew into London we were about to land she asked could I hold her hand. I had a girlfriend, a girlfriend who later became an abusive alcoholic.
I got on the tube and then she got on the same carriage. The universe was trying to tell me something. I asked for her details, we exchanged emails. I said I’d message her, I never did. I’ve not been back to New York and I barely gig anymore. Sometimes I think I chose the wrong reality that day.