week 7 - not like heaven

Apparently I can't count.

It is, apparently, week eight. But, for the sake of chi and flow and mojo, we'll keep with it being week seven.

Psycho-bitch is rearing her ugly head. But I have come to understand, that PB is totally related to the ugly thing we know as emotions. Emotions complicate everything, and I swear to you, that somewhere over the course of last week my heart tried to drug and convince my brain to go to Mexico without any papers, so that it could reign supreme. AND, it almost succeded. Stupid heart.

It's a good thing I have my head screwed on straight.

But let me tell you about the near miss. I was out, the manhunk was there, we shared a many a bevvies, and somewhere in the course of the evening it had occured to me that it was the first time I had seen him in several days.

I went in to steal a cheeky hug when there was no one around. He just stood there, staring blankly, hands at his side. A little later in the evening I put my hand on his thigh, his knee jerk reaction was to freak out. Insert nervous giggle and death stares anywhere along here now.

So a few bevvies later and his housemate and I are in an indepth squabble, does he be neutral? Like fuck he does, he tells me to calm down. Clearly I was upset and left the venue. Not because I'm a drama queen, but because I knew that the only thing that would follow my tears would be the mascara.

Do I get anything from the manhunk? Nothing but a lonely gal going to bed thinking that she really is a PB.

The next day I realise that it wasn't the freak out reactions to my drunken attempts of public displays of affection, it wasn't even so much that he took his mates side instead of being NEUTRAL - which - at his age he should definately have known better, it was the fact that I was clearly distressed when I left, and he did nothing. Not a text, not a call, not even a telepathic 'I hope you are safe and not getting beat up by some random chav and her pram'.

Furthermore, in conclusion, it is clear that I have developed feelings for the manhunk. And now, I want to go and cry. Instead though, I will pre-occupy myself with house hunting, cleaning the one I currently have and getting this tyre off me. I tried to talk to him today, but that little nicker inside, that one that says I deserve better then someone who just assumes I'm a drama queen, wouldn't shut up.