Thoughts For The Day: Suicide Watch

Things looking doomed with your lady? Struggling to get your leg over AND pay for desert? The trick is to find a bridge jumper and talk him down.
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Things looking doomed with your lady? Struggling to get your leg over AND pay for desert? The trick is to find a bridge jumper and talk him down.

As a look that will impress the ladies, talking a suicide jumper down from a bridge is hard to beat. Christmas is a tough time for many people.  I of all people know that and the only reason I’m not leaping off a bridge is because of my fear of heights. I think this is possibly a look that tops vaulting over a railing one handed which is another great look that’s always likely to impress ladies.

Picture the scene. You’re walking down the road when you see someone looking to jump off a bridge. Ideally, this unusual situation would take place when on an early date with someone you’ve just met. Things are awkward but not going too badly. You’re at least set for a kiss at the end of the night. You’re walking her to the mini cab office, as you do if in my case you don’t drive, when you notice this shadow standing on top of the bridge, ready to jump into the river. You act quickly and decisively. You tell your lady friend to ring for the police but in the meantime know you’ve got a couple of minutes in which you can really impress her by trying to talk the jumper down.

You can drag that haunted shit out for months and the woman will tolerate the fact you don’t drive and the appalling state of your finances for a while, before she too walks.

You make some small talk with them, try to strike up a rapport, telling them life’s really not that bad for them to end things when really, you’re guessing it probably is. As you get in deeper, you turn back to see the girl looking on nervously. You know she might be thinking you’re a skin flint because you didn’t even give her the option of declining a desert, so you’ve got to step things up. You decide to clamber up onto the ledge of the bridge, and crouch down, getting closer to the jumper, your arm reaching out to them, though not too close for fear they may it and pull you into the river with them as they jump.

By the time the police come, the jumper only trusts you. You’ve told them how bad your life is. You’ve spent 20 weeks in a hotel, 6 of them out of work, your head’s gone, your woman’s taken a walk, you’re back in primary care and you’ve packed the rubbers off to storage. The police’s specialist suicide negotiator has to step back. He can’t match you in the screwed up stakes. His life’s great. He can’t form any connection with the jumper.

You’re in a win-win situation. If the jumper steps down from the bridge, you’re a hero. You saved their life. If they jump, your agonised look will draw only sympathy from the gathered crowd and what’s more, this woman. You can drag that haunted shit out for months and the woman will tolerate the fact you don’t drive and the appalling state of your finances for a while, before she too walks.

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