Moving in and moving on

It's been three months now since the last major corkscrewing change in my relationship with her and it's been a good three months. I've taken back control of my life by (amongst many other things) buying a big telly because I wanted to, going to the gym a lot, laughing on Sunday mornings with people who understand the value of lazy days, and rediscovering the loveliness of many of my friends.

I've maintained some degree of contact with her, so I've been talking to her about once a week and I've seen her a couple of times. I thought I was over her (or getting that way).

So I'm annoyed that I'm upset that he's moving in with her. I've known for a while he was returning from overseas this year, and of course I've known that they were only going to get closer. So why does this hurt?

I think it's the finality of it all. I can't phone her anymore (I don't want to speak to him at all, so I can't call in case he answers), I can't go round to see her (for the same reason), we shall continue to drift apart.

And while that's clearly a good thing in terms of me getting on with my life I can't stand the thought of losing a friend through something other than laziness or distance.

The other thing that grates is I'm just a bad loser and here's a situation where I've come last. He's obviously beaten me, he's better than me in her eyes - the criteria I considered to be important. In addition, she wins because after all this fannying about she still gets to go home to someone, where I get to go home to an anonymous hotel room. Of course, it's probably not all sweetness and light on their side, but I've only got my imagination to rely on.

I guess "it's a break-up, get over it" covers an appropriate response for me to chew on.

I'm a rational man of science

I follow rigorously in the shadow of mighty intellectual giants and trail breakers for the scientific method such as Galileo, Newton, Maxwell and Rutherford. If the observations fit the theory then the theory is good, and theories stand until they are disproved. There is no need to invoke any higher powers to understand inexplicable events, they will eventually crumble beneath the steamroller of logic and truth.

Why then, do I own a lucky pair of pants - whenever I wear them I'm guaranteed some bedroom frolics (although there's no empirical evidence to back this up). And how is it that I shave with shaving gel that brings me bad luck - since its purchase in a Sydney chemist, nothing but emotional trauma has befallen me? Why do I always check my horoscope in whichever paper I'm reading (fortunately New Scientist's remit does not extend to astrology), even though I'll always do it with a weary and resigned sense of how damnably stupid I'm being.

It's because I'd like responsibility for my life to be removed from my hands. I'd prefer it if the cool mentholated feel of my gel (which incidentally is truly excellent in all aspects of the shaving process save for emotional stability) was responsible for her rejection of me, because it saves me having to look for flaws in myself.

It would be easier for me to understand if my scoring prowess was directly related to my under garments rather than leave it in the hands of other apparently random and uncontrollable factors like an appreciation of my smile or a general hormonal imbalance.

My rational mind fights hard to prevent my stupid foibles ruling me, lest I end up a gullible hippy. I read the horoscope but forget what it says, I wear my pants in strict rotation (Day1: Normal, Day2: Back-to-front, Day3: Inside-out, Day4: Inside-out and back-to-front) and never shuffle them around so that I wear my lucky pants on days when I need them, I keep shaving with my unlucky gel.

I'd better stop typing now though, it's bad luck for me to type at 11am.

How to be happy

Happiness is frequently considered to be something transitory and only easily recognised in hindsight. With the many immediate pressures and confusions of day to day living - from what to eat next to who's going to win the Premiership - people apparently find it difficult to ask themselves the question "Am I happy?" and answer with a "yes". These people should get themselves a Lotus Elise.

I got back in my car after a six week hiatus and did over 200 miles of driving along dry and lightly populated country roads. And it was all great. I've had the car nearly two years and twelve thousand miles and driving it fast still brings a smile to my face.

The single best moment this weekend came whilst accelerating through a series of open, empty bends when I was hit with a massive adrenaline rush culminating in the incredibly exciting thought that

"I'm driving a Lotus Elise".

A more current expression of happiness would be difficult to realise.