And here's where it ends. After spending an unhealthy amount of time over a week with a girl with a boyfriend of 4 years things, as was inevitable, turned to shite. Before I continue with this story I will remind you of a few things: 1) I never tried anything on(?) her, nor would I have. 2) I wouldn't want to start a relationship with her as a rebound fling, in my extensive experience, is bad news. 3) I wouldn't have had a secret affair with her. This does not make me happy, nor would help 'good shit' come my way. But ... I had a crush on her. I can have crushes on boys and girls, it just means I want to hang out with them, that's all. Over the past week, there is no denying my feelings for her have increased in weight, and perhaps burdened me a little, thoughts-wise. Over the past two days, her texts, which were numerous, and voluminous, dried up. My texts were still replied to, but the responses were brief, and filled with words like 'matey', and 'buddy-o', and other such back-the-fuck-up-cunt related ... stuff. It was over. Our brief platonic affair had been severed by the hand of my Parisian ... buddy-o. Nothing on paper, nothing concrete (plutonic), just a whole bunch of subtext, buzz words, and what was not being said. Any sane man (or a woman) would've nodded sagely at the screen of their mobile, counted their losses, and spouted some over-wrought cliche about how small amounts of pain can bring, at a later date, joy ten-fold. Not this fuckwad. Not this cocktard. I wanted an omission, I wanted it signed and sealed. I demanded to fuck it all up, in the most extreme way possible. I wanted to talk to her on the phone. I wanted to say that I had been silly to get involved with her in the way that I had: Explosively, quickly, and excitedly. I wanted her to say that she was sorry if I felt that way. It was never her intention to have her actions misconstrued, but ... BUT ... I did want her to accept a dram of responsibility for what had occurred. I will choose parts of the phone conversation that took place. I will try to remain neutral in my account, how much of it is so, will never be known. I call, she answers: Her: Hey. Me: Hey, how you doin'? Can we talk for 5 minutes? Her: Ah, yes. Me: Look ...., I don't want to turn this into a big deal, or anything, but things seemed to have turned a little weird. Her: What are you talking about? Me: Well, I've noticed that all of a sudden there's been a little shift in the tone of your texts. Her: I can't see you every day T....s. Me: I know. Her: We're just neighbours, we're friends, that's all. Me: I know. Her: You're just being dramatic. Me: I don't think I am. Things have changed ...., I mean ... we've both been seeing a lot of each other. Her: T....s, I have a boyfriend - Me: I know. Her: Nothing was ever going to happen between us. Ever. Me: So, have you told him about being at my place talking and stuff til 4:30 in the morning? Now she gets angry Her: Why does this have to be a big deal? I'm not interested in you, I haven't done anything wrong. Nothing was ever going to happen. Why do you have to make this so difficult? Me: I don't want it - Her tone is now markedly patronising Her: If it's going to be such a fucking hassle, we don't have to see each other at all, I'll say hello but don't expect anything more. Me: That's kind of what I was getting to. Her: You're confused, and now you're pointing the finger at me. Me. No! Not pointing the finger. Her: I have to go. Me: Well, I didn't expect the animosity. Her: I'm tired, and hungover, and sick of boys falling in love with me. Then the stalking. Me: No stalking. ...., listen I - Her: I'm going, I don't need this, you've made a big deal out of nothing. Goodbye. Me: Goodbye. I threw the phone as hard as I could at the couch. It landed with a plump gentle sound, and rested gently, almost at ease with itself. I held my head in my hands and listened to some sad music. I smoked cigarettes one after the other. I went to bed and stayed up for a long time. Thinking about me ... and how I really frustrate myself sometimes. How I never seem to learn. I lay there with my eyes open wondering how to change my ways, and why I need to take things to an extreme, and why, when I can see what I need to do, I always choose the option which hurts the most. I came up with nothing. The pain will pass, it was only a week. And now, thank God, it's over. I won't be spell checking.