Worst Weekend Ever

Dublin was alive with colour and spring light and men carrying bouquets of flowers this weekend, and I hated it.

Saturday night, as planned, I met That Guy at Fallon and Byrne's Wine Bar. I was dressed up. I had even, unusually for me, put on a pair of shoes with heels. I'm tall, so I usually don't bother. I gave him his present; Le Fanu's Carmilla, all wrapped up in stupid shiny paper and I note I'd made about le Fanu being one of Ireland's best and most unappreciated writers. You know, I was so excited, because I had been planning this for ages, and I'd hardly seen him over the last couple of weeks, even though we go to the same college.

I feel like such an idiot now.

He opened the book, said, "Uh yeah, thanks." (Uh, yeah, thanks???? I put a load of thought into that!!) and then he goes, "Uh, we gotta talk." And I sat there with the nice wine that I had thought he'd like as he tells me that he's gotten back together with his girlfriend, the mother of his daughter. When? Well, there's a thing. Four weeks ago. FOUR WEEKS AGO! Yes, we've been out in that time. We've been together. And he was already back with her.

I felt as though someone had stuck a knife in my gut, twisted it and then walked away. Laughing. I just got up, pushed the chair back and left. He's sent me a few texts, but I haven't answered them. I went straight home. Saturday night, I felt so bad, I just sat at my table in my room and looked at flights back home. I was seriously thinking maybe I'd just abandon the masters and leave. Then Bepe got back. Fabia hasn't been around since her last trip over, so he was on his own at the weekend too. He knocked on my door to see if I wanted a coffee, and when he saw that I'd been crying (embarrassing; I am not usually a weepy person) he made me take off those stupid high heels ("You look like you're going to fall over") and go out with him for a pint. I told him I was thinking of leaving, and he said not to be stupid, it's not Dublin's fault that I had the bad luck to hook up with such a jerk. He pointed out that things are going well: the course is going well, I've even got a part-time job to start soon (hopefully) and I am thinking of staying on to do more research. It's not worth throwing away all that because of this guy.

But oh, I am so sad. I really liked him. I really like him. And if he rang and said it was all a horrible mistake, I would go straight back. I can't believe that this has happened. Saturday, I was so upset, I didn't even want to sleep in my room, so I crashed out on the sofa in front of some rubbish on the television and woke up feeling even worse, because now I had a hangover, too. Bepe could not have been nicer. He ordered me into the shower, took me for breakfast at a local pub, Smyths on Jervis Street and basically forced me to go out and about with him to check out the Chinese New Year stuff. I did feel better after the breakfast. I guess there's nothing like a plate of greasy, salty food to give you a boost--even if it's not the healthiest start to the day.

It's funny, because I'd have thought that the first person I'd want to call would be a girlfriend, but Bepe was perfect.

I've got to stay busy, because whenever I'm idling I just start thinking about the whole thing and getting so upset. I'm gonna work harder than ever, and I'm going to go out every night until I'm so tired I just fall asleep without thinking. Is this going to make me feel better? I sure hope so, because I can't imagine feeling worse.