In the past ive undervalued the notion that loving someone was a defacto precondition for life.
In the past weeks/months, I’m less sure
"I wasn’t exactly a Romeo at school – most chicks through I was insane – but for a while I had a girlfriend called Jane. She went to the all-girls school up the road. I was nuts about her. Big time. Whenever we were due to meet, I’d first go to the boys’ toilets at school and rub soap into my hair to slick it back, so she’d think I was cool. But one say it started to rain, and by the time I arrived my head looked like a bubble bath, with all this soap dripping down by forehead and into my eyes. She took one look at me and went “What the fuck are you doing?” Dumped. On the spot. I was fucking heatbroken. Then, a few years later I saw her coming out of a club in Aston when she was off her face, and I wondered what I’d been upset about."
binge drinking and (unnecessary) self-pity