Friends United

Brad rung the following day on my mobile but I didn't reply. I didn't even go into work. I couldn't face seeing him again even if he wanted to. I was in a terrible state. One that I don't like to admit - crying and missing him like a lovesick teenager. My world was torn apart. I was in pain racked with formidable emotional waves. Should I be feeling this way if he didn't see me in the same light? He persisted and rung again after work, I didn't answer. He knocked at my flat and I pretended to be out. I rung in sick. We didn't see each other all week.

That Friday I was at a loss. I had no one to see or nowhere special to go. I walked around the town, hands in pockets feeling sorry for myself. I mused over my situation - I made the break so I shouldn't feel this way and yet I felt abandoned, unloved. I gazed forlornly into the shop window of a ladies fashion boutique so fascinated by all the pretty dresses I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. Suddenly I felt two large hands clamped over my eyes - I thought I was about to be robbed.

'Guess who?' the deep voice growls.

It was easy. 'Hi Brad,' I say sheepishly expecting the worst but he made no mention of the other night. It was as if nothing had happened - I was delighted. He asked me if I was feeling better and he bought me a beer. I'm not sure what was more frustrating. Did I want him to confess to similar feelings or call me a fag and punch me in the face? But saying nothing about the other night was sheer torture.

Later that evening as we chatted and drunk another beer I asked him about his latest girlfriend, Donna.

'I ditched the bitch,' he said calmly. She got too possessive and I saw alarm bells. I haven't heard from her since.' He laughs, 'I've still got a wardrobe full of her stuff - panties, bra, shoes and dresses - the works. What woman does that? I'll miss the bitch.' he sighs, 'still plenty more fish in the sea.'

'I'm surprised,' I said, 'you two got on so well I thought you'd get hitched.'