Fast train to Dumpsville....

It had to be done. And so, despite her friends saying it was never going to happen, she told Daniel that this thing was never going to get off the ground. She did stop short of saying he was frigid, which is what Miss H (her festival buddy) was telling all and sundry at Reading on the weekend!
Urgh. It really is the worst thing to have to do. Especially with a three-day-festival-comedown-hangover while you're walking along watching everyone else having fun by the pubs in Hammersmith.
But she called (cop out? perchance.) and bumbled on for a little while about how much fun she'd had at Reading and asked how his weekend had been (he'd done "not much" other than having been to his brother's house. call her a bitchy cowface, but she likes to be intellectually stimulated and also occasionally made to feel a little jealous of the exciting things other people have been doing).
Anyway. She ummed and ahhed and then called it all off. Belted out the old lines about it being more of a friendship than a relationship and not really working out for her. She explained she was absolutely shit at doing things like this. Not sure if that helped. Felt a bit bad he then sent a text apologising if he had done anything wrong. Which he hadn't. Perhaps also suggesting they go out to gigs together was a bad idea as well. Altogether, she'd give herself a B-minus for her efforts. Did the deed, completed successfully, but hardly excelled at it.
She took herself off to Broken Embraces afterwards and for some cheap Chinese which somehow managed to make things feel a little better.
Hey-ho (and why is that entering the dictionary? But anyway) and, indeed, onwards and upwards. Next!