A long drive to happy.

If I bring you breakfast whilst you’re in bed, a simple “thank you” would be sufficient. None of this “How did you get into my house?” bollocks. You didn’t even compliment me on the fluffy eggs nor the sizzled-to-perfection sausages. I had to drive three hours just to find the perfect smoky marinated sauces for the dish, you ungrateful bitch!

And yes, I know I screwed up a little on the mushrooms. They were burnt, and I guess I tend to be quite salt happy. But that doesn’t mean you are allowed to be ungrateful for my kind gesture. Oh, and it doesn’t mean you should call the police on me! That is certainly not a good enough thank you. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?

Thanks to your little phone call, I now must leave town for a little while. I will probably come back soon enough. No doubt I will be greeted with that awful little piece of paper which screams “restraining order”. I am so sick of those little fuckers. I’m collecting them like they are my gateway into Heaven. No matter where I go, I seem to get handed them. I think there are only a handful of states I’m legally allowed to reside in. Colorado, Texas, Arizona... Wait no, not Arizona. Not anymore. I’ll check the chart and get back to you on a definite list.

But I think it’s bullshit. You women are bullshit.

Every day, you lot moan about wanting a thoughtful guy. One that brings flowers without asking, does chores on his own will, that will do little tasks to show their love. But when I do it? No, it’s all “Who the fuck are you?”, “How did you get into my house?” and “I am calling the police!”. Sigh. Women are just so hard to understand.

And now I must change my appearance yet again to escape being noticed. No doubt you have posted my face all over social media, without my permission may I add, and there will be angry folks looking for me. So, I have done what any sane person would do: shaved all my hair off. I was aiming for the sexiness of Vin Diesel. It didn’t really go to plan. I now look like a sad egg. You have removed my happiness and I am now a sad egg.

“But it wasn’t real love!” You will probably protest.

And, sure, you’re right. It wasn’t real love in the movie theatre sense. With fireworks, dim lights, and nails scratching down backs. And to an extent, I guess you can’t count it as real love since you didn’t even know that I existed. But it was real to me, darling. Very real.

You are beautiful, and I am not just saying that I promise. I’m not going to lie, you’re not the prettiest girl I’ve fallen for, but you have potential to be in the top six. Maybe top five if you wore a little more makeup.

I fell for your cascading fiery hair and those dark, alluring eyes. You wear a lot of red to match those (what I am assuming would be) soft tendrils of hair. I’ve imagined they feel like feathers. Can you confirm this?

Celia, my love, you are like a danger sign. It enticed me straight away. Perhaps you would be the girl who adored my kind gestures! Who wouldn’t run away screaming! Who would take me into their loving arms and make my life complete.

But you didn’t. You, like all my other failed relationships, ran away screaming. I really truly thought it would be different with you. I expected more and you’ve let me down. Such a shame, such a waste of potential.

So now, I’m bald, sad and driving to find my new home. It’s quite difficult when you have to avoid certain towns and cities (thanks a lot, restraining orders). But I’ll manage.

I’ve removed those sticky contact lenses which coloured my eyes brown, and I’ve replaced them with green. And I have applied a little fake tan- you know, the dove moisturiser from Superdrug? I saw it on your bedside counter and immediately bought some myself. Good stuff.

My new identity is slowly forming.

I’ll replace my scraggly rags for some nicer clothes. Well, I can’t afford much right now after I lost that job. Apparently stalking the women in the workplace is “offensive” or something? Not quite sure. I think it’s pure bullshit. And I wasn’t even following her, I was following her friend. Hah! As if I would risk losing my job over that ugly slob!

I think I will go to California, start a new life there. Mum will be proud of me when I tell her my new lie: I got a raise Mum, I will tell her excitedly on the phone, California! Sales manager! They love me so much they’re doubling my salary.

I’m sure she will be so proud of her successful and ambitious son. Maybe she will ask that I come visit her- it has been quite a while since I visited her in Houston. I just have to wait six more months before I’m allowed back. Until then, Mumsy will just have to settle for my lies. I’m a busy man mum, I can’t just run back now that I’ve got such an important new job. They need me here!

The mountains now surround me, and there is a glistening lake to my left. I can smell the almost-bitter air as I speed up a little faster in my tiny little car. I will have to ditch this tin can soon, but I think I will get as far as I can, so I do not have to walk as much. Last time, my blisters had blisters!

I just hope my new neighbours and townsfolk will be welcoming and kind. I could really do with a friend right now; It is incredibly lonely having to pick up and move every couple of months. Even now, as I look at the satnav which reads eight hours left of my journey, I know it is not a promising idea. I will never be able to live happily until women learn to have some respect for a gentleman with kind gestures.

Sigh.

It’s going to be a long drive to happy.