Bitter Sweet

The next hour is really not that tough for me. I eat a huge bowl of ramen, sink a diet coke and then order the chocolate fudge cake which is something I never do but I just broke up with my girlfriend so you'll excuse me an indulgence here as well as the paper thin excuse. I also manage to avoid thinking too much about what I've just done and what I'm going to do next by immersing myself in the sport section of the newspaper I picked up in the way here. Switch brain to off.

  The following hour is tortured by comparison. Here's the dilemma: I met Sally and took her number on Thursday night. It is Saturday afternoon and I'm reasonably certain that now is when I ought to be using the number she so miraculously agreed to let me have. Calling her Friday would have been too keen and needy and I've done a smashing job of not calling her too soon. Leaving it to Sunday could send a message that I'm not all that bothered about her and I don't want to give her that message. So now is ideal timing really.

  Issues:

  1) I'm nervous. I mean, just the thought of calling her is making me agitated and edgy and positively adolescent. I think my ears are sweating.

  2) I just binned my girlfriend. ONE hour ago.

  3) What if by some continuing act of outrageous fortune, she's free tonight and suggests that we meet up? I can't turn her down. You don't turn fantastic women down, particularly when you are attempting to win them over, impress them or have the tiniest hope of seeing them naked in your bed. I can't do that the same day now can I?

  4) ONE hour. Not one day, or a week or a month. Sixty odd minutes since I did the foul deed.

  5) Considering points two and four, you can see how I might be emotionally wobbly right now. I mean ethical considerations aside, I'm still not exactly on a nice flat even keel. There's a lot of emotional turmoil going on up there just simply as a natural consequence of the circumstances. What kind of an impression will I make if I call Sally in this state of mind?

  6) I also don't want to have to face up to being utterly, utterly morally bankrupt which I'm pretty sure calling some new woman one hour after dumping my last girlfriend makes me.

  So calling her now makes me a total shitbag wanker, completely heartless and mercenary, it is also tactically unwise since I'm unlikely to come off as witty and urbane when my head is still not right about Mel. But to not call her now will mean that I'm not so fresh in her mind and she'll start to lose interest, and the idea will take root that I'm not that interested either which is just not flattering for a girl at all and unlikely to make me any more endearing.

  All this over-analysing is making me more self-conscious and it’s becoming a vicious circle, the confusion and uncertainty and guilt all feeding off itself and growing.

  I did then, what any right thinking man would do. I consulted the Book of Luke.

  'Call her now you dozy fucker. Mel isn't dead is she? There's not like some accepted minimum period for grieving the loss of a girlfriend that you decided weeks ago to get shot of. In your head it ended what, three weeks ago? Four?'

  'I guess so,' I reply shrugging a shrug he can't see but will know I'm doing anyway. He'll be picturing my slack expression and slumped shoulders right now.

  'You know so pal. Book of Luke, twenty four seven: Next girl not the ex-girl. So chest out, shoulders back, chin up, strap your knackers back on and give the girl the phone call she's been waiting for you to make since Thursday night. And then perhaps you can stop wasting my fucking time and let me get you completely monkeyed.'

  I strap my knackers back on and make the call.