So. You can see, hypothetically speaking, how it might hurt a person’s feelings… spiritually eviscerate them, if you will… when the object of your affections decides to lock lips with this She-Devil. After months of blossoming friendship, hour-long phone conversations and specially-made mix CDs, you finally decide to throw caution to the wind and say: “Hey, I think I love you a little bit.” And he decides to leave you hanging for a spot of midnight tonsil hockey with the iciest of Ice Queens.

And now the plot thickens. It’s not just a kiss, as it turns out. It’s a relationship. Bloody hell.

“Are you all right?” Charlie hovers over me looking anxious, like he thinks I might have some sort of fit. It’s tempting, but I feel numb. I shrug.
“Life just keeps on getting better and better!”
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“Sure.”
“I think this is your lucky day, Chum.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. WHAT ?
“This just proves that Dylan is a massive wanker with appallingly bad taste. Way to dodge a bullet!”