Late 88.
I messed up.

The girl I was in love with had dumped me because I rather stupidly slept with one of her 'best friends'. It was really messy as we had just moved in together and our social group had either sided with her (rightly so) or stuck with me (my friends.) Despite my pleas she moved out but I wouldn't give her up; I called her on a daily basis, I showed up at her flat unannounced, I sent her letters begging forgiveness and canvassed her friends to see if there was any way she would consider talking with me again but she was adamant - it was over.

I was genuinely heartbroken and spent far too much time moping and drinking to realise that I had lost a lot of weight and was looking like hell, but I kept on writing letters without getting a reply.

Until finally she called me and said we needed to talk.

We arranged to meet at our old local. I had my hair cut, scrubbed up, put on my black suit and bought a small bunch of flowers. Even though I was sure nothing would ever bring her back, I needed to tell her how sorry I was to have hurt her.

I arrived early, sat at a quiet table and waited.

At the agreed time she walked through the door and with the afternoon sun behind her looked more radiant than ever. She was beautiful - and I was a total idiot for ever betraying her love. I knew it and could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I looked up at her and she reached her hand to my face and gently smiled, and at that moment I knew there was a chance. A remote one, but still a chance.

As I went up to the bar to get her a drink I saw some people making selections on the jukebox, and eventually heard the opening chords of a great song by The House of Love. I smiled and for a moment thought that the world was working with me to win her back - until the vocals kicked in and I started to panic...

"Christine...Christine."

...she got up, grabbed her stuff, muttered 'goodbye' to me and ran out in tears.

No prizes for guessing what her old best-friend's name was.
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Mon 1 Feb 2010, 16:51, 5 replies)

There was never any chance of getting back with her.
She was going to explain that if you didn't stop pestering her, she would have to call the police.

Good job you got the message, one way or another.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Mon 1 Feb 2010, 18:51, closed)

Hahaha!
Now that I think about it you are probably right.
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Tue 2 Feb 2010, 9:29, closed)

Similar thing happened to my mum
Only the song was Vincent by Don McLean
(deadly_sinners, Mon 1 Feb 2010, 22:36, closed)

So ...
what was her mate's name that you slept with?
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 2 Feb 2010, 11:22, closed)

It was Trevor.
I thought that was fucking obvious.

Duh!
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Tue 2 Feb 2010, 13:57, closed)

Then I don't get this story at all.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 3 Feb 2010, 10:12, closed)

Hahah unlucky.
My ex had that problem with me, when 'Psycho Killer' by Talking Heads came on.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 2 Feb 2010, 13:08, closed)