Poor Lamb
I once had the misfortune to start dating a friend of mine when we were both on the rebound from previous relationships which had dissolved. It rapidly became apparent to everyone other than the poor lass involved that she was rather more interested in maintaining this relationship than I was, but I kept at it because, y'know, having a girlfriend is generally better than not having one.

While we were going out, a variety of misfortunes befell us.

First of all I accidentally set fire to her flat by throwing away a bottle of surgical spirit into a bin and then thoughtlessly flicking fag ash on the top. It turned into a fairly major fire and damaged quite a lot of her belongings before we got enough extinguishers to get it under control.

Then I took her to the cinema, and because I demanded to go for a beer afterwards we missed the last bus home. Because I was then too tight to pay for a taxi we ended up taking the long walk home up the steepest, longest hill in the city (which in Bath is pretty damn steep). Not too much of an issue for me, who went hiking in the countryside most weekends, rather more an issue for a short goth woman in high heels who chain smoked and spent most of her time indoors.

The crowning moment was when she was at my flat, sitting astride a chair and rocking back and worth while we chatted until she lost control and went smack face first into the wall. She lost several teeth, one of which was embedded in the plaster and left a mark that I proudly showed to visitors for months afterwards.

Finally I got bored and did the decent thing - stopped returning her phone calls, avoided hanging out in her favourite pubs, ignored her friends in the street when we passed and, eventually, stopped answering the door until she got the message.

Alison, if you're reading, I've grown up since then and am really very sorry for the way I treated you. But it was never going to work.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Thu 16 Jun 2011, 16:13, Reply)