Hung out in Waterloo with X last night; writerly - ocassionally witty - conversation and limited food. Good combination, huh? He told me that things aren't going well with his girlfriend. Why?
"I think she's gone off me. I told her that I wasn't a great bet, not making a living and all. She's a real City high-flyer. And I think she believed me."
You know how that is? You pitch a self-depreceating line to someone in the vain hope they proclaim: "no, no, I love you really. Money/looks/height/size/humour don't matter to me, really." Only they never do say that, do they? I think she's losing out, anyhow.
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