So when I was 21 I had started working for a company a long way from home. I'd just moved in with my long-term girlfriend at the time. Everything was great and whilst we didn't have much money, we had great times together. Around this time a new guy called Joe started working at my company. Like me, he'd come a long way from home to make his fortune but quickly found he'd overstretched himself. Within a couple of months he was unable to pay the rent on his flat and was essentially kicked out by his landlord. I'd gotten to know Joe pretty well over this time, he was a similar age to me and we'd often go out to the pub after work. After talking it through with my girlfriend, who had met Joe once or twice, we agreed to let him sleep on our sofa for a while until he found a new place.
After a couple of weeks my girlfriend told me she was pregnant (just what every 21 year old wants to hear, NOT!). Being young, naive and in a blind panic I decided that I should probably marry her. I went out after work the next day, scrabbled together what little savings I had, bought her a modest ring and steeled myself to pop the question.
I only had to wait a couple of days for an opportunity to ask and, if I'm honest, I was kind of praying that my girlfriend would miraculously come on her period and all would be well. One night, when Joe was out of the house for the evening I popped the question over dinner. Shocked, my girlfriend started crying and naturally I had to ask what was wrong - or more accurately, what had I done wrong. That's when she landed it on me.
Apparently she'd slept with Joe when I'd been out of the house; the baby wasn't mine and as such she didn't want to marry me. I was floored and felt utterly numb. My girlfriend went on and on, trying to make up excuses, reasons and all the rest of it but I was so shocked I couldn't listen to it, it was just noise.
Like the responsible adult I am, I got blind drunk whilst she left to stay with a friend until everything calmed down a bit. By the time Joe got back to the flat I was lit up like a Christmas tree. When he came through the door I punched him as hard as I could, his eye swelled up like a cotton ball. I managed to drunkenly land a couple of extra hits before he managed to grab his car keys and get the hell out of there. That was the last I ever saw of the guy, he never appeared at work again and I've not heard of him since.
Predictably the girlfriend and I broke up in horrific fashion, a long and protracted 'maybe we can fix this' type affair that was ultimately buggered beyond any hope of repair. My brother came down to stay with me shortly after she moved out and noticed I was a bit down. He asked me why I was so mopey lately. I told him that if it hadn't been for cotton-eyed Joe, I would've been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, cotton-eyed Joe?
After a couple of weeks my girlfriend told me she was pregnant (just what every 21 year old wants to hear, NOT!). Being young, naive and in a blind panic I decided that I should probably marry her. I went out after work the next day, scrabbled together what little savings I had, bought her a modest ring and steeled myself to pop the question.
I only had to wait a couple of days for an opportunity to ask and, if I'm honest, I was kind of praying that my girlfriend would miraculously come on her period and all would be well. One night, when Joe was out of the house for the evening I popped the question over dinner. Shocked, my girlfriend started crying and naturally I had to ask what was wrong - or more accurately, what had I done wrong. That's when she landed it on me.
Apparently she'd slept with Joe when I'd been out of the house; the baby wasn't mine and as such she didn't want to marry me. I was floored and felt utterly numb. My girlfriend went on and on, trying to make up excuses, reasons and all the rest of it but I was so shocked I couldn't listen to it, it was just noise.
Like the responsible adult I am, I got blind drunk whilst she left to stay with a friend until everything calmed down a bit. By the time Joe got back to the flat I was lit up like a Christmas tree. When he came through the door I punched him as hard as I could, his eye swelled up like a cotton ball. I managed to drunkenly land a couple of extra hits before he managed to grab his car keys and get the hell out of there. That was the last I ever saw of the guy, he never appeared at work again and I've not heard of him since.
Predictably the girlfriend and I broke up in horrific fashion, a long and protracted 'maybe we can fix this' type affair that was ultimately buggered beyond any hope of repair. My brother came down to stay with me shortly after she moved out and noticed I was a bit down. He asked me why I was so mopey lately. I told him that if it hadn't been for cotton-eyed Joe, I would've been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, cotton-eyed Joe?
