Fuck heroin

You send a guy a message basically breaking up whatever sort of involvement you had with them. You never hear back from the guy for 4 days. You’re happy it’s all been easy and clean and you can now move on. Then, he texts you asking how you are. And your first thought is this must be for the wrong person. So you text back saying he must’ve made a mistake. But then, he answers back understanding you’re not that well. And then…

You’re just perplexed. What the hell happened to my good bye message? You decide to confess your confusion as to why he is texting you after the good-bye message. His answer is that he never got it… So you basically thought you broke it off with this guy, but he comes crawling back.

I don’t belive for a second that he didn’t get my message. I think he wanted an explanation and a conversation as to why I decided that. And so, he had it. We ended up having a nasty fight. With a guy I have seen 6 times in 8 weeeks. A sort of fight I would only have with someone after 2 years of being together. Nasty, horrible, bitter tasting fight. Over the phone, in the freezing cold. The sort of fight that makes you think “thank God I am never going to see this person again in my life”. The sort of fight that confirms your first instinct when meeting this person thinking “this isn’t going to end nice”.

And it didn’t. But better late than never.

So, here it is – the flipside of being single and dating in London. It’s not all fun and drinks. It’s a learning process: to listen to my instincts, to never go further than I should, to end things before they start, but also to learn from my experiences, become richer from them and move on being a better person.

I …Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career […] Choose a fucking big TV. Fuck heroin.