As expected the evening with a large bottle of vodka, and several other alcoholic items, resulted in a legendary headache. At least, one thing we have achieved: narcosis. I can't even remember my name, therefore she must have temporarily forgotten about Sexy Guy. I heard once of a mathematical formula linking the amount of time it takes to get over someone to the time actually spent with this person. I wonder if it is also a function of other variables, such as the intensity of the relationship, the imaginary relationship time (ie, making plans for non existing events), the frequency of communication, the quality of sex, the ability to compartmentalise, to rationalise emotions.
Right now, at least once she sobers up, SF#1 is still in the grip of the hurricane. And is just spinning around aimlessly.
The frustration is to try and figure out what to do to help her out. Especially because I am a sucker for a happy ending, and, somehow, I am secretly hoping that the idiot realises what a mistake he's making. Of course, I would never say that to SF#1. I have rubbished the man flat out for over a week now. And I could hit him in the face if he comes anywhere close to her. What a despicable behaviour, blah blah.
And it is kind of hitting me while a write. This is typical EI, isn't it? To hope against hope, to believe in some magical relationship karma, to be so open and naïve to ignore the harsh reality. To snub straight, fast lines, for the surprises awaiting around the corners of a winding road. To fail to learn from own mistakes. To be emotionally unequipped.
I am starting to fear that I am going to need support in this rescue mission. SF#2's cynicism and Married Friend #1's warmth and wise words will set the path straight again. How can anybody live without friends?
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