I'm a horrible person

I had to break the bad news to my stalker last night.
Apparently even stalkers have feelings, who would have guessed? It would seem that even they have to draw a line somewhere.
So as mentioned before I had tried everything to break bad news to this guy that apparently had a major crush on me. And by everything I mean every single excuse in the book; 'It's not you it's me. I'm a mess right now, I don't know what I want', 'I'm scared of commitment', 'I don't want to ruin what we already have'.
I even went on to tell the poor guy that I was going out for drinks with another guy...this resulted in him texting me every fifteen minutes to ask when I would be home, and to say that he hoped my date was going badly. Smooth. When I ignored these texts the phonecalls began...when I ignored these more texts began. It was like being stuck in a constant stalker cycle.
So last night I decided in order to break off this obsession I would have to say something that would put him off me in a massive way. I thought about the obvious- I don't like men...actually quite like your sister, or I have a sex addiction or even I used to be Alan but let's be honest none of these would have been remotely believable. Instead I went for the standard 'I got so drunk last night I had sex with someone I shouldn't have.' That doesn't sound too bad but believe you me the reaction I got from that was as though I had been dating him for years and just told him that I had been sleeping with his brother. (Can we please bare in mind that I had not even touched the boy at this point!)
I then faced an evening of angry texts, threats and mainly a great use of the word 'hurt'. It sounds cruel but it was like putting an injured animal out of its' misery. I am seriously confused about the role change however. Usually I am the crazy one who acts irrationally...perhaps I'm just not that bad. I was then informed that if I go to my local for a drink this week I need to 'forewarn him'. I mean really? The pub is opposite my house, do I really need to provide him with my alcoholic timetable? Because if I am being honest it would be far easier to simply tell him when I won't be in there.
Anyway so I decided that all this anger was for the best, I turned my phone off and went to sleep, waking up to a text from him this morning that read: 'So sorry I got so angry at you last night. I had no right. You're right we're not together so I'm sorry. Let's go for a drink this week. x'

You are kidding me?! Even when I'm a lying bitch I can't get out of this...

The Photographer

I recieved a phone call from my brother yesterday asking for a favour. He'd managed to leave his bag in one of the Soho gay clubs and needed me to go get it for him. Today is my week off going into central but I decided to be a good sister for once. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I want to housesit for him when he's in Miami next week).
Just as I was leaving my friend called me up saying he was in Oxford Circus and did I fancy a drink, good timing. We met, (I ruined my diet yet again but only with a goats cheese wrap, I was tempted to spit in my diet's face with a KFC wrapstar but the diet demons got me) and headed to pick up my brother's bag. My friend is a photographer, he was picking up prints and has an interview for his BA tomorrow so was pretty nervous. Anyway I get to the club and have to listen to the WORST rendition of Boyzone playing...then some cute bartender comes out (gay of course, all the good ones are gay. Seriously ALL) and tries to locate the bag. Eventually it is found and we decide to head for a drink.
Here you need to be updated on my photographer friend. He is a young'n, just 20 years old (sounds patronising but it is so true that boys mature so much later than girls), he has a french girlfriend who he cheats on, and thinks he is the shit.
So we sit down at the bar and discuss how we both have interviews (haven't mentioned but in two hours I may just be a hired journalist)and I ask him interview questions. Can I please note that the photographer has not ONCE said well done to me about my interview, nor has he tried to help me out for my interview- despite the fact that I ask him about fifty warm up questions. Anyway his phone rings and it's the french girlfriend. 'Abi answer it..tell her i'm in the loo.' I look at him with my crazy face, 'you're kidding? I am not getting involved stop being such a kid and talk to her' So after whining at me I answer the phone and deal with the girlfriend. At this point she's called him 5 times, texted him 10 times and had no response. She's 19 though so I can allow her nuttiness, I for one was that psycho girl.. The poor thing cries down the phone to me, for all she knows I'm an evil temptress (I'm really not, a little bit of sick went into my mouth at the thought of even touching photographer- no offence). The photographer then decides he wants to make the girlfriend jealous, and knowing she is at work texts her colleague. Now here I see no logic? He claims to love her and yet decides this must be the best idea in order to make her love him more.
I am then dragged out of the bar, my YO MANGO is left (I NEVER leave alcohol, cardinal rule you shall not waste booze) and I am forced to be his 'back-up' when he goes to see the girlfriend at work. Luckily I am brought a glass of wine to say thank you and sit myself next to Andrew (the chef of my local with whom I have a great relationship after I decided he must have had a sex change and renamed him Aleysha) to watch the show.
The thing is I suddenly turn into some smart arse relationship expect even though I am the epitimy of a single girl. I sat there thinking how stupid they were, and this coming from a near 22 year old who last week went on a date, got drunk and told the date that 'all men hate me and ditch me for another woman'. RIGHT.
And the best thing? That camera loving sod hasn't even texted me today to say thanks or ask about MY interview. Instead I recieve a nice text saying 'interview went well. guy knew me from shoot. Wicked.'
Cheers, I want my YO MANGO back.