When someone leaves you, apart from missing them, apart from the fact that the whole little world you've created together collapses, and that everything you see or do reminds you of them, the worst is the thought that they tried you out and, in the end, the whole sum of parts adds up to you got stamped REJECT by the one you love. How can you not be left with the personal confidence of a passed over British Rail sandwich?
To be fair, her expected hatred of all things male has not materialised because it is clear that she simply dislikes everyone. I suspect that this is an attempt to remain aloof from the minions but it has backfired badly. The women, who were looking upon her as a potential saviour, now regard her as a traitor to her sex. The blokes are just relieved.
I always enjoy the day after a hangover. Each time it happens, it’s my own little victory over the demon drink.
One minute you're closer to someone than anyone in the whole world, next minute they need only to say the words 'time apart', 'serious talk' or 'maybe you...' and you're never going to see them again and will have to spend the next six months having imaginary conversations in which they beg to come back, and bursting into tears at the sight of their toothbrush.
I mean, I haven't rushed to the answerphone once to see if anyone's aware of my existence in the world!