Thanks for nothing

It's one thing getting knock-backs from the likes of Tandy (see 1/7), the Doctor (see 23/9/08) or Gemma (see 8/8/08). They are so special that the 99.9% likelihood of them turning me down/ignoring me and never speaking to me again is worth it for the minuscule chance that they might take pity and give me an opportunity to prove to them that a date with me is a better way of spending an evening than curled up in front of Coronation Street with a microwave dinner for one.

But getting blown out by someone who I don't regard as good enough for me and who kisses like I imagine Roy Hattersley would (9/12/08 & 12/12/08) is altogether harder to take. I should have taken the hint when Sarah ignored a text message I sent her in January (see 10/2). But I was heading down to Bristol (where she lives) on my own over the bank holiday weekend to see the Banksy exhibition, so I emailed Sarah to see whether she fancied meeting up at any time.

The following day, she replied. I arrogantly thought that she would be up for meeting for at least a drink, as it was highly unlikely that she was seeing anyone. But Sarah said that she 'was busy all three days'. How much morris dancing, Scrabble and embroidery can one woman do in a weekend? Still, at least I got a reply.