proof, if further proof were needed, that i have absolutely NO idea what the fuck i am doing.

for those of you who aren't miss noodle, and that would be most of you, here's a brief summary of what we talked about over lunch:

Harry: "i really like her, but i'm worried that i've got all these neuroses and she's going to end up another mel in my head. i think i should tell her, because i don't think it's good for me, and i don't think it would be fair on her."
noodle: "ok"

this version is abridged considerably. i was a lot more complainy and whiny, and miss noodle was her usual empathic, supportive self.

so i arrange to see her after work, and we go hang out in the park.

and we talk about nothing of importance whatsoever. we just sit on the grass, in the sun, talk nonsense and generally skirt expertly around the issue. which, to be completely honest, i think she suspects most of anyway. people are smart like that, especially girls!

she walks me back to work, right back into the foyer bit where we just kind of standing round spouting nonsense. and mel & anthony come in from a smoke.

sometimes, and i may have said this before, the universe FUCKS with you in ways you can't possibly imagine, or if you could your brain would shy away from the evil absurdity of the whole thing.

and mel seemed happy, waiting patiently for anthony to leave the lift, talking about star-wars until we get to the door of level 10 before asking through a cheshire cat grin: "WHAT'S HAPPENING THEN???? TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME"

one day, this will all make sense.

could you hurry up and build your time machine miss noodle, then i can use it in 10 years to travel back to today, and tell myself to stop being such a complete arsehole.