Hopefully, this is the end.

Aside from the tragic news about my now forever-gone shoe, and the oppressive humidity, it was indeed a lovely weekend in New York. When isn't it? How can things go wrong when you're eating, drinking and shopping with friends?

But back to the title. Hopefully, this is the end.

Friday night, after dinner with Karina, Kevin and Charlie, we all met up with more friends, namely Aaron (my most favourite person in the world; he once snorted vodka to see if he'd get drunker that way) and more importantly, Nick. Nick, who when he found out that fuckwit and I had broken up, called immediately to tell me he missed me. Never mind the fact that he has a girlfriend.

Aaron coincidentally goes to school with Charlie - as a matter of fact, they had played basketball together earlier that day, which just shows what a small world it is. Anyway, so we met up with Aaron and other people first for drinks, and Nick was going to meet us later.

Around 2AM, Karina got really tired - poor girl had been up since 5AM - so Kevin and I walked her home. It took about 30 minutes to make the trip back to her apartment and back to the bar. In that span of time, Nick arrived and left no less than ten voicemails and text messages, asking where the hell I was. One of the things I hate the most is people who call repeatedly. It irks me immensely. And it wasn't like he had no idea where I was; I told Aaron and Charlie that I was going to return posthaste.

Ah, but I got my own. Nick, of course, was overjoyed to see me. For the first time in ages, I was single! Finally, he could make his move! Never mind the fact that he still has a girlfriend. I actually feel sorry for her.

But it wasn't to be. Remember Charlie? By that point in the night, I might as well have been sitting on his lap, that's how wrapped up in each other we were, tipsily moony with the anticipation of later sex. It was delightful. As soon as Nick realised this, he proceeded to petuantly spend the rest of the night ignoring Charlie's and my presence. Normally, I hate it when I'm ignored - ah, but this time it was so worth it. I'd try to add to the conversation, and he would talk to everyone else at the table but me. He wouldn't even look over in my direction. This, from the guy who actually hit on me in front of fuckwit. The guy who asked me last year if I thought fuckwit and I would break up soon. And look at me now - less than 2 months after fuckwit and I broke up, I was already seemingly involved with another guy. It was priceless.

Eventually, such festivities had to come to an end - and besides, it was late and Charlie and I wanted to get to bed - which we blatantly made clear when we were all gathered outside the bar, trying to figure out where to go next. I asked Charlie where we should go, and he said back to his place. Normally, I'm not so mean and in-your-face about it - but Nick deserves it. I have made it clear plenty of times that I am never going to date him, and he has refused to get the point.

Hopefully, he hs now.

It was even better the next morning when he called to see if I was free for lunch.

Me: "How was the rest of your night?"
Him: "Wow, I'm so tired, I didn't get to bed until 5."
Me: "Yeah, I didn't get home 'til 8."

And then there was dead silence. Beautiful dead silence.

I'd like to be his friend. Truly. But first he has to understand we will never date, and hopefully, he does now. Nothing like a blatant PDA to drive the point home. If Charlie was good for nothing else (well, he was good for other things), at the very least he inadvertantly helped me with this.

Kevin said that there are three reasons to do anything: for the story, out of love and out of spite. I'd like to say it was for the first reason that I let events transpire how they did, but I have the niggling feeling that it was the last. Regardless. It's beyond time for him to move on. I quickly abandoned the idea of us ever dating, six years ago. It's so his turn to realise this as well.