I've just come back from spending two days in Paris with my mother.

It was a break within a break, a departure from my usual non routine, probably well needed. My mum was good company, although it was like a pensioner's outing, but so what? Perhaps this is what comes of being the ugly one, left on the shelf; or perhaps the one least willing to compromise.

I can't get used to my hair, I hate the way Chinese hairdressers always cut the layers too short and thin on me, even though this time I expressly told him I only wanted a trim, and long layers. I suppose it doesn't really matter anyway, I don't have Chris anymore.

After crying my eyes out the first day or so post break up I haven't really cried again since, nor felt much like crying. Chris sent me an e-mail the evening after, I guess that made me feel much better, knowing that he's still amicable enough to reach out to me. Once the emotions calm down the reality of the fact that it really wasn't going to work out irrefutably surface.
He's having his karaoke party with his flat mate at his flat tonight, even as I type. I wonder how it's going. I haven't replied to his last e-mail, I figured I'd save it for when I have something important to say. I wonder how long it'll take before he stops thinking about me at all; not that he was that attentive to me in the end. I suspect in the future if I send him any e-mails he'll always reply in good friendship, unlike Bill. I wonder if he's stopped thinking about me in that way already, or whether he'd fallen out of lust with me a time ago. I'm surprised by how quickly the pain is passing, I had been so heart broken to begin with. If it's like this for me, what is it like for him? How long will it take before I don't think about him much at all? I can hardly believe it. My adorable blond Scot. Not so much mine after all. I wish life were not so complicated.