Mercoledì, 07 Aprile, 2004 | Posted by Lionel Gerkin at 21:58

It didn't change overnight. These things rarely do.

But gradually I could see she was moving away. As I lay there in the dark I could smell the alcohol on her breath. It was that distinctive, acrid smell that cuts through your nostrils like a machete through jelly.

And then there was the faint smell of sweat over her body. A smell I sometimes didn't recognise.

What did she see in me? What had she ever seen in me?

It was a question I asked myself over and over again.

My answer? I was what she thought she wanted.

I was straight, normal, reliable, conformist, stable, as predictable as the Swiss watch on my wrist.

I was everything she couldn't be. Not in a million years. As unwanted as yesterday's underpants.