Pick Up Boy didn't show. First he lost his phone, and emailed to say "so how do we do this?" And I explained that the old fashioned way was to just show up at the same place at the same time, and he said he would "try that lol." So I was pretty much expecting that I'd go, and have a drink by myself, and then go home again, which is exactly what happened.
And I'm not sad about him. I'm not even sad about the night. But there is something in this feeling I have, the feeling of I knew it, that makes me a little sad. Because it is so familiar. I never believe that someone will show, and when they show, I don't believe that they like me, and when they like me I don't believe that they care, and there is always that voice that says there must be something wrong.
I remember lying with Henry, on a mattress on the floor of my little yellow bedroom, our faces inches apart, and I thought you are so good to look at, and then I thought why do you want me?
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