21 March 2004 (Sunday): I feel like the most criticised man in history. I guess I must be doing something right then.

Another message, another non-response. I could have been more forward but that may have been too much. Who am I kidding, either way I’m going to arse things up and humiliate myself. It’s all about timing and timing is out of my control. I need preparation, I need to be prepared, and timing does not assist this.

On Friday she called me the name of somebody who once had a crush on her and semi stalked her. That’s the worst sign of all. How can two people so self-absorbed ever make room in each other’s lives for one another? I was around hers for four and a half hours Saturday afternoon but who’s counting. A ray of hope, her sister embarrassed her over her hygiene in front of me. Was the risk of grossing me out and turning me off or just a way too high threshold of sensitivity? Fingers crossed the former.

To date there have been three good opportunities to kiss her, to turn this into something real. It has been well over a year now of not knowings and pregnant pauses inserted into my most enjoyable moments of more than the last twelve months. I type this as an admission, a confession using words and language I cannot muster in real life nee vocal vocabulary. I am not oral, I am anal.

On a brighter note, today Millwall fucking thumped West Ham, it is almost embarassing. Millwall blasted them 4-1 and managed to miss two penalties in the process. I listened to game on BBC London (via the internet) at my parents and I could not believe what I was hearing. West Ham started things off by scoring an own goal for Millwall before Cahill got a couple and Chadwick knocked on in. The atmosphere on the radio sounded absolutely killer and apparently the West Ham fans became a bit upset to say the least and police horses were called onto the pitch. Ha ha, Premier league team my arse.