tuesday 24 january

heaven-sent day. at 5.30, like a gift from god, daniel appeared, sat himself on the edge of my desk, with his back to perpetua, took out his diary and murmured, 'how are you fixed for friday?'

yessssssi yessssss!

friday 27 january

9st 3 (but stuffed with genoan food), alcohol units 8, cigarettes 400 (feels like), calories 875.

huh. had dream date at an intime little genoan restaurant near daniel's flat.

'um . . . right. i'll get a taxi,' i blurted awkwardly as we stood in the street afterwards. then he lightly brushed a hair from my forehead, took my cheek in his hand and kissed me, urgently, desperately. after a while he held me hard against him and whispered throatily, 'i don't think you'll be needing that taxi, jones.'

the second we were inside his flat we upon each other like beasts: shoes, jackets, strewn in a trail across the room.

'i don't think this skirt's looking at all well,' he murmured. 'i think it should lie down on the floor.' as he started to undo the zip he whispered, 'this is just a bit of fun, ok? i don't think we should start getting involved.' then, caveat in place, he carried on with the zip. had it not been for sharon and the fuckwittage and the fact i'd just drunk the best part of a bottle of wine, i think i would have sunk powerless into his arms. as it was, i leapt to my feet, pulling up my skirt.

'that is just such crap,' i slurred. 'how dare you be so fraudulently flirtatious, cowardly and dysfunctional? i am not interested in emotional fuckwittage. goodbye.'

it was great. you should have seen his face. but no i am home i am sunk into gloom. i may have been right, but my reward, i know, will be to end up all alone, half-eaten by an alsatian.