Never Blog Drunk...

...and I'm about to show you why not. It's the middle of the night and I've been at Zaphod's Bar again...but this is my blog, and if I can't be honest here, where can I be?

I feel so hopeless.

How does it feel to be loved by someone you're not interested in?

How does it feel not to be able to say what's really on your mind?

I was discussing my so-called love life with a friend and she put forward the observation "it seems like you're holding out in case something better comes along. Truth is, is there better??"

Is there?? Well, I'd like to think there is....

If there isn't, maybe I want no part of this crazy game after all.

If there is, well, I doubt I'd have a chance with her.

Either way, it's not good, is it?

Screw the whole thing. I now consider myself unattached and uninterested.

It's all pointless, crazy heartbreak anyway. All it's ever lead to in my life is hurt and sadness. Usually for me, because I'm too darn soft to want to hurt anyone myself.

I could easily cope with being alone. Maybe I'm better off alone. Which is just as well. Who else would be interested in me anyway? I mean, look at me. My freewheeling days are over, folks. If they ever existed in the first place. And I'm not denying I come with a bagful of issues of my own.

But she can have her relationship if it makes her feel better. On paper at least. It may take me out of circulation in the eyes of the world, but I've not really circulated for quite a while anyway. And as I said, I'm no longer interested.

The nay-sayers were right. Friends with benefits is a crazy concept. Not that anyone would know we even had "benefits" going by the last few months. And if I could, I would say to her - let's be brutally freaking honest about this, you've never really felt comfortable about the physical side of things, have you? With anyone, might I add. You never even want to talk about it, even with me! Zog knows I've tried. Even when you know all I really want to do in bed is pleasure the woman I'm with. Even when I fragranced the room with passion flower and put soft music on and gave your back a sensual massage with lavender oil, and little kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck - and all you did was talk incessantly in a loud voice throughout about your dolls, and your shopping trip with your auntie, and then asked if we could play Scrabble? Oh, and did I have any crisps?

We would be better off simply as being friends, to be honest. But I can't say those words because it would push you over the edge, wouldn't it? Because I know I'm all you've got.

So go ahead. Take me, if it makes you happy. If it makes society happy. But remember this - you may take me, but you'll never have me. Not really. And you're deluding yourself if you think you do.

I can live with it. I'll play the role of your boyfriend to keep you out of the asylum - or the morgue. Because I do care about you. Maybe not in that way, but I do care about you and I will not have that on my conscience. I know you don't feel confident in the big grown-up world and never have. I know you're looking for someone to handle the adult side of life, and I know you're looking at me to be that someone. And all right, I'll do it if I must. I'll sacrifice my own satisfaction for you, if that's what's expected of me. I'll put up with your clinginess and lack of interest in the bedroom. I'll put up with your hate filled rants on practically every subject under the sun. I'll put up with your moaning that you don't have any friends, and then I'll put up with your moaning that you've tried making new friends and they're all a bunch of weirdos and users. I'll put up with you as you slowly turn into your mother, who held you back in life for so long, and with your cries of "why are you always so bloody laid-back?" I'll put up with all the things which stopped me from wanting to spend my life with you. Hell, I'll even tell you I love you.

But don't expect me to really mean any of it.