You lucky, LUCKY, Bastards
Because last time round I did'nt even get the "we need to talk."

In our busy local she smacked me down. Very, VERY hard on the right cheekbone.

My glasses became a 3-D Escher-esque structure and reliable independent witnesses have since related that my 5'7", 12 stone self described a perfect parabola before landing in a heap some six feet from where I started.

So, my chickadees, there are far, far worse things lurking at the arse-end of relationships than "we need to talk."
(The 12 Disappointing days of Xmas The big fool says to push on, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 21:31, closed)