At a recent family wedding, there came a moment during the reception when a rather enthusiastic fellow somewhat lubricated with fine beverages decided to offer his best wishes through song. He convinced the DJ to hand him the microphone and he then proceeded to give a fine rendition of “Better man”. Now, to be fair, he was not that bad when it came to singing but his choice of song may have been more considered given the reason for the celebration.

There are two well-known songs with this title - Robbie Williams is the singer behind one version whilst Pearl Jam sings a different version. They differ a little in their tone and content.

Robbie Williams version:

Send someone to love me
I need to rest in arms
Keep me safe from harm
In pouring rain

Give me endless summer
Lord I fear the cold
Feel I’m getting old
Before my time

As my soul heals the shame
I will grow through this pain
Lord I’m doing all I can
To be a better man

Ah, the noble intent for self-improvement through obtaining love. Surely this was the version sung, right? Nope. The fellow chose the Pearl Jam version which is a little less appropriate…

Waitin, watchin the clock, its four oclock, its got to stop
Tell him, take no more, she practices her speech
As he opens the door, she rolls over…
Pretends to sleep as he looks her over
She lies and says shes in love with him, cant find a better man…
She dreams in color, she dreams in red, cant find a better man…

Often dedicated by Eddie Vedder to his stepfather (thank you internet community for that tidbit!), the song details the plight of a woman trapped in an abusive relationship with a man who doesn’t come home at night in a timely fashion. With all passion gone from their marriage, she feels she can’t leave because she believes no other man will want her. Ergo, the domestic violence and trapped feeling continue.

Yes, that’s definitely the song that a SPOTD would sing at a wedding reception…

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All seats on the tram were occupied when I boarded it to go home tonight, save one.  A man was sitting in the window seat but had his arm sprawled out across the top of the seat back, holding the pole next to the aisle seat.  I tolerated this with all the tolerance I can usually muster in these situations and headed toward the seat.  To give the fellow time to retract his arm before I sat, I deliberately fumbled around in my briefcase for a few seconds and he retracted his arm partially, allowing me to sit.

It was not particularly comfortable with his arm perched on the seat beside him since his forearm was firmly pressed against my upper arm and I figured he’d move his arm once he realised.  A few seconds later I felt his arm moving away to a position I felt would be out of the road.  I didn’t expect him to resume his original position of clutching the pole in the aisle since that meant his arm was now draped across the back of my shoulders in a sort of pseudo-hug.  Now, even when it’s not ~35C I take umbrage at strangers hugging me, and since today was very hot I was doubly displeased with this new development.  I assessed my two options:

1. Ask the SPOTD politely to move his arm out of my personal space.
2. Adopt a more Trav-like approach to achieve the same aim.

I chose the latter.

I turned toward him as though to request him remove his arm then faked a “oh, I know you” happy look and placed my hand upon his leg.  “Oh!” I cooed, “I haven’t seen you in ages, my love.  Go on, give us a kiss!”

Presented with this unexpected invasion of his personal space, the SPOTD suddenly recoiled so sharply there was an audible thump as he slammed into the wall of the tram.  A split-second later the first thump was followed by a second as his arm shot off the central pole and quickly joined his body in colliding with the tram wall.  He blurted out some sort of mumbled response but his panic was intense and he garbled the words so they made no sense.

His leg had already retreated rapidly away from me so my hand was no longer making contact with him.  He babbled quickly about “not being like that” to which I replied that I didn’t care, so long as he didn’t want to invade my personal space by hugging me.  As he sat half-sideways facing me warily watching me for other bursts of over-friendliness, I quietly resumed reading the article I’d had in my hand when I sat.  Ten seconds later he stood up from the seat and scampered down the aisle, preferring to stand than sit next to me for the remainder of his travel.

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