Monday

It was her first time at our house. She admired the posters in the sitting room for their various ironies. The 6ft x 4ft periodic table was particularly amusing to her. “What’s your favourite element?” She thought for a moment. “Neon. You?” I just kind of shrugged. I thought Neon was a good answer though and mentally noted that it was now my favourite element. We drank and laughed about our mutual friends and she asked if she could stay over. I said that she could. We went upstairs. The time between our first kiss and penetrative sex was about four minutes. It felt impersonal but satisfying, and she nestled into me as a little spoon when we settled. “What’s the deal with the periodic table anyway?” I lay mock sarcasm over a joke I’d used before. “So girls feel we have chemistry or something.”

 

Tuesday

“Hey! I no your busy with your disser but we should meet up today if your around for a min x.” I felt no guilt and put my phone back in my pocket while I walked along Capel Street with a faux-fur coat draped over my shoulder and a bag of mixed 90s-style shirts in my hand. I have things to do. I have no time for a girlfriend. Later, I text: “Left my phone at home today. Sorry. Will see you tomorrow xxx.”

 

Wednesday

She looked like Ke$ha. The same ditch-blonde hair in a permanent state of straightened-last-night (but then I woke up in a bath tub). A pretty, freckled face with lips that are never quite together. She’s getting fatter though. We’ve been together less than three months and I’d say she has gained a stone. I’m repulsed by her. Sex is a chore. If my gut was encroaching on Palestinian territory, I would feel unattractive. She’s emotionally fragile: she has self-esteem issues, family problems, a history of bad relationships and a myriad of other things that I, by now, only find tiresome. These were previously interesting to me but I am growing to loathe her.

 

Thursday

“Are you around today? x.” I consider texting back, “NO.” I sit in the library wondering if I could gather myself and tell her I haven’t had a real class in a month and only work Sundays now. I’m not really under that much pressure with my dissertation. I’ve slept with someone else and I’m going for a drink with that girl tonight. I’m texting an ex-girlfriend. It would kill her but the longer it goes on, the more hurt she will be.

 

Friday

We see each other in the evening and I stay at her house. I shudder as I lay my hand on the soft skin of her amorphous stomach. She says that she is so happy with me and I stay silent. I decide to at least take away my false enthusiasm. Maybe she will break up with me. It’s nearly Christmas. I may have to wait until the New Year to do it. Or I will emigrate. I am ineffectual. To flee would be best.

 

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