After speaking with a friend about the recent development (or expected retrogression) in my love life, I came to the realisation that I am simply difficult to please. One of the reasons he has me so smitten is because he proved to be a challenge and I am always one to embrace a challenge. But as soon as the challenge gets so difficult that it no longer calls or shows interest in the slightest way, I call the challenge a dickhead – or something similarly flattering. On the flipside, as soon as the challenge gets so easy that it calls too often and appears overly interested, I call the challenge clingy. By the end of our conversation, my friend and I agreed that the guy we want simply does not exist (and of course that the both of us are difficult to please) but after giving it some thought I said to her, “I know what I want, it just doesn’t want me back”.

Yes, I’ve come to the point where I refer to him only as it because acknowledging his humanness will remind me just how human I am and thus, just how much it hurts to know I’ve lost him. So as long as I refer to him as it, I can pretend he never made me fall head over toenails in like with him only to scurry off to some secret hideaway where he keeps each piece of my heart like a trophy – “Look ma! I broke another heart”. I hate boys. Or simply, I hate the fact that no matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t. Every part of me wishes he will be there tonight but another part of me (the infinitely small part that my heart has not colonised) knows my luck has simply run out.