I don’t know if anyone else has this, but my brain does this annoying thing where it saves key moments in my life and endlessly replays them back to me.

Most people probably do have memories, yes. But mine aren’t highlights. They aren’t nice memories designed to make me feel better. If my life was a stint on now-defunct Channel 4 reality show Big Brother, my “best bits” would be a string of embarrassing moments where I’ve said something monumentally silly, failed to read a clear signal, turned down a great opportunity and just generally got in my own way.

It stops me sleeping at night sometimes, it really does.

Like there’s the moment where at ten years old I was squeezing behind my teacher’s class at school when somehow I managed to take the legs from under her, dumping her on her backside. Did I mention she was heavily pregnant at the time? She was fine, but I still have nightmares about that moment.

Somewhat inevitably, as it always seems to be with me, most of them involve women and my regular failings with them. (There will probably be a lot of this kind of thing on here – consider yourself warned – and if you’re my sister or my stepmother please stop reading now please thanks)

For instance, there was the time when I was leaving, and she told me not to go, and looked at me with a face that told me she *really* didn’t want me to go. So I went. I don’t think she ever forgave me for that. I never forgave myself for it and often fantasise how different my life would have been if I’d stayed.

Then there was the time when she (a different she) was upset and I was comforting her and instead of doing what 99% percent of blokes would have done and used the situation to my own advantage, I inexplicably told her my best mate fancied her. That went down badly with both parties. I’m no Cilla, put it that way.

Oh yeah, and the recent time when she (a different she still – what a gigantic slut I am) had hold of me and was angling after a Christmas kiss, so I told her she was annoying. Score! I am tremendous at this flirting lark. In my defence, on that occasion I was so drunk I could barely sit up straight. And she was being kind of annoying…

Ooh ooh ooh and then there was the other time, with yet another she, who was with me against all the odds, when there was a definite opening (I’m sure I haven’t just made this up) and the moment slipped away. That one will probably haunt me forever.

Then, going back to my teens, there was my first major crush (a mate’s sister’s mate – stay with me here), who cornered me one day and said she’s heard I liked her and demanded to know whether or not it was true. So I said no!?!?! What was I playing at? I have literally no clue.

Sometimes I think there’s a spiteful little man living in my brain who sees these moments coming and deliberately prevents me from being happy by sabotaging the situation by making me say something incredibly thick, or by physically running away. It’s a few years since I pulled that stunt, mind…

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