This time, something different happens, though. Its the daydreaming that does it. Im doing the usualthingimagining in tiny detail the entire course of the relationship, from first kiss, to bed, to moving intogether, to getting married (in the past I have even organized the track listing of the party tapes), to howpretty shell look when shes pregnant, to names of childrenuntil suddenly I realize that theresnothing left to actually, like, happen. Ive done it all, lived through the whole relationship in my head.Ive watched the film on fast-forward; I know the whole plot, the ending, all the good bit. Now Ive gotto rewind and watch it all over again in real time, and wheres the fun in that?And fucking whens it all going to fucking stop? Im going to jump from rock to rock for the rest ofmy life until there arent any rocks left? Im going to run each time I get itchy feet? Because I get themabout once a quarter, along with the utilities bills. More than that, even, during British Summer Time.Ive been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you andme, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

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Nick Hornby, High Fidelity.

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