Yesterday, it happened. Again. Ground Zero Two. Ground Zero One had been a more gradual affair, but this time the realization hit me, like a diamond bullet through my forehead, that I had been harbouring delusions once more.

If you happen to be less experienced than me, which is unlikely, let me give you some advice when it comes to women: Don't try to read them. You'll fail, and you'll save yourself a great deal of pain by simply not trying. This leaves you with another equally large problem, however: you wanna take what those bitches say at face value? You're in the shit!

It probably didn't help that as the object of my affections I picked (or rather, by her very existence, she picked me) a female not to be applauded for her decisiveness or rationality. This is, however, I am sure, part of the attraction - my cold, cynical, pragmatic nature yearns for the fire of an idealistic, loving person.

The cardinal sin in human relationships is to say "I love you" and not mean in. The very fact this weapon can be wielded by anyone with vocal chords sends shivers down my spine. In the usage of this phrase, there is a danger of context, I concede - it may be said in terms of friendship, and heard by the other in terms of undying devotion.

Shortly before Ground Zero One, I told her I loved her. I didn't use those exact words. I waxed lyrically on the subject for quite some time as we lay in my bed, and listened as she told me she had no idea I felt this way. Mistake number one, which had been the cause of perhaps five months of anguish: I thought she knew. Lesson number one -

If you want someone so bad, tell them. This is the only way it can progress, otherwise you will merely continue to exist in your world of angst.
Ground Zero One occured soon after. I knew what was coming almost from the morning after the night in my bed; I just had a feeling. Sure enough, only a few weeks later, there I am lying on my patio listening to Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straights and smoking an entire pack of fucking lung bleeders in a pathetic display of teen angst.

And that might well have been the end of it, because these things pass and in the grand scheme of things don't have terrible importance. A few weeks later, though, like a bolt out of the fucking blue -

"I'm not actually sure I gave the right answer when I said I wouldn't go out with you."
Bang. The possibility of us going somewhere has been opened up again, and I'm hooked once more. This was mistake number two. Lesson number two -
People don't change.
It develops for a month or so. She starts saying she loves me. Given what I've told her before, how can I take this in any other way than love? But at this stage she doesn't know I still feel the same way, or if she does she doesn't choose to pursue it any further. And I don't set her straight. This was mistake number three. Lesson number three -
Never, ever violate lesson number one, you stupid fucker.
Last night, we seemed closer than ever before. Fuck, I thought, maybe we're finally going somewhere. And then, with the embrace of my best friend, and a kiss... All was lost.