Big mouth strikes again

“Sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking when I said I’d like to mash every tooth in your head
Sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking when I said by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed."

Ahhh, The Smiths always get it spot on. These lyrics pretty much sum up the bipolar comments I've received from SneekerBoy, as I've decided to dub him.

Long story short, he liked me, likes me, is crazy about me, obsessed with me. On Saturday I told Sneekerboy that I'm considering getting back together with George for a 3rd time. (Insane idea - bear with me) I was telling SneekerBoy in order to push him away, and to explain that I still miss George. It was hard to remove such a big part of my life in London, and to just move on and be with someone else. I was fond of SB - love his brutal honesty and the Northern way he say's 'fook' - but I couldn't be the girl he deserves to have. It's annoying that his crush has gotten in the way of a good friendship. I totally understand it because I'm struggling with a similar problem (wait, I'll explain in a moment). The point is there is a marked difference in how we are both handling our emotions. One of us is simmering quietly, the other is making a complete mess. See if you can spot the difference.

A case study on brutal honesty: SB on the Grand National: "It's horses, they run round a course, the ones that fall over get shot and turned into glue. I hate horse racing."

The world is full of people that we fancy more than they fancy us. It happens all the time, and it hurts. Most people would walk away and try not to make the other person feel guilty. Not SB though. He didn't take it well. Not at all.

From 9am Sunday morning to 12.30 he called every 20mins and sent 4 texts. The last one said: "I'm going to come around there and make a fooking scene if you don't answer the phone."

Since then, it's been intense to understate things. I've been living a bit in fear. He told me he thought about topping himself. He begged me to come over so we can talk about things, but then he sat on my couch and sighed and said he had nothing to say, so i booted him out again. In short, he's gone a bit mental.

I should probably blog about the George situation, but work got crazy busy, and I'm kinda sick of blogging about boys all the time. OK - I entertained the notion of getting back togehter and spending my last few months with him. But we are not together because I can't let my defences down after being hurt. I do like him. I miss our good times, when we're together we have fun. He challenges my intellect, which I find very rare and sexy. Last night he used the term 'Brechtian' and I enjoyed it. At heart, I'm a cultural wanker.

Yet I'd be a fool to trust him again and, in truth, I'm surprised I even talk to him. A rollercoaster ride can be addictive with lots of peaks and troughs, but at the end of the day you throw up your fairyfloss, or in my case a bottle of vodka, and all you want to do is go home.

...

As an aside, lately I've realised that I'm more than smitten by the office crush. I think about him constantly. It's bad, because I can't give anything else a fair go while I've got him in my head.

This is the difference between the way I'm handling it and the way SB is. I've asked him out. He said no. I've accepted it and tried to get over it. I haven't threatened to kill myself, or called him every 20 mins or tried to sabotage his chances with other girls. I have wondered why, but not wanted to hear the words 'i don't fancy you'. SB has pretty much tried to push me into saying that.

Office crush is dreamy though. To use another Smiths' lyric: There's a light that never goes out...