Picture the scene: A group of good friends are sitting on some comfy sofas in a good pub. Said friends and colleagues are nicely drunk, not shouty drunk or weepy drunk. As this is a well-known pub, many other friends are dropping by to say hello.

I am perhaps the most sober of all of our little group. I am laughing at the jokes, arguing with people, but in a good natured way. We're all having fun.

In walks a girl from the company where several of us work, including myself. She has several girlfriends with her who, seeing me, abandon her. In the past, either at the canteen or at the coffee machine, we have expressed our shy interest in each other. Not in a come hither kind of way, but more in an "Oh, that project you're working on is really cool" or a more subtle smile/gesture/body language kind of way.

The evening blurs on as we talk the night away. We have similar, but not identical interests. We move closer together on the sofa we have monopolised. I am actually staring into her eyes - normally I cannot look anyone in the eyes. My heart is pumping very hard, and I haven't touched my drink for 2 hours. It is obvious that she feels the same way. Our hands are touching now, and her left leg crosses my right. Suddenly I really need a drink. She is probably more afraid than I am, her left hand is trembling in mine.

In the seat opposite, someone mentions that a New Labour has tabled another bill to ban fox-hunting. I feel my girl's hand and legs tense as she listens to what I consider to be a reasonable discussion of why hunting is barbaric and cruel.

She leans back and motions me nearer. "I can't stand people like that, don't they understand that hounds are the only way to kill those vermin?" My heart is falling at light speed into my boots. "Um, do you go hunting then?" I say (bad move, buster).

"Oh yes, we need to keep the tradition alive" She has begun to sense that I am no longer looking her in the eyes...

My brain signs off for the evening. "Don't you think it's cruel?" I mumble.

"Oh no, and it's a really good day out, why do you think it is cruel?"

I have gone bright red and I am very, very angry. "Yes I do, I'm dead set against it." No parts of our bodies are touching anymore.

"You're not one of those Sabbys are you? Those people are terrorists".

"Yes I am a saboteur", I lie. I have tears in my eyes. She is perfect! 5 minutes ago we were both trying to get the conversation around to getting a taxi to my place, yet now I view her as a horned, fork-tailed demon. What is really galling is that I am feeling guilty! Me! Why the fucking, bloody, child-killing hell am I feeling guilty? She's the monster!

We both make our excuses. I leave for home, she walks over to her friends. One of my friends has earwigged our conversation and offers her shoulder to cry on. Any other evening, I would of. It was definitely a come hither expression on her face. But no, I am in love with a demon.

I go home and eat lots of chocolate and fall into a nightmare laden sleep.

The next day at work, the fox-huntress and I ignore each other. I still love her, though.