I just realised, I never expanded on what happened with the bass-player I was briefly seeing. I don't expect that many of you have been waiting with bated breath for the developments of my love life (how I'm coming to despise those two words together), but I like to cater to the smallest of minorities.

It's not that I neglected to write about it at all - I saved my vitriol for my MySpace site (my friends there are quite used to my more misanthropic prose). But in the interests of consistency, let's get it cleared up here as well.

I wrote this exactly a month ago, and in the interests of bringing a promising start to its baffling close, here it is:

'not big and definitely not clever'

(in response to the man I was briefly seeing and his assertion on his Facebook page that he is "big and clever", whereas his younger brother is "small and thick")

On the contrary. his younger brother is, in fact, one of the politest, most charming people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. For instance, he's just started seeing a really lovely girl and, from what I can tell, appears to be treating her well .

Well, let's start with "clever". As far as it pertains to the utter waste of time that has been the last three weeks, it's not so much that he's "clever", it's more than I'm "stupid". Really, how did I get reduced to this? How did I think a guy who never actually took me on a date, was constantly busy, never made plans until about a day in advance, would wander off for ages at gigs and parties and leave me on my own to talk to a bunch of people I didn't know, and is clearly in the middle of some work-related meltdown was ever going to treat me well?

How did I become so pathetically grateful for any scraps of attention he threw my way? How did I ever ever achieve the level of stupidity that made me believe that when he said he definitely wanted to keep seeing me, and he really liked me, he meant it? Clearly, if I've dumbed down to that level, it doesn't matter how "big and clever" he is. He may as well be brain dead.

Maybe he's "clever" in the way that he's choosing to handle things at the moment, especially when it comes to replying to genuinely concerned messages. At the weekend, I was checking my Facebook, which, if you're unfamiliar with the concept, tells you what things your friends have posted on their pages. Well, he's one of my 'friends'. And the things he had posted on his page, which was previously quite a normal, cheerful page, were worrying to say the least. He'd changed his 'Interests' to "Getting f***ed, being a selfish c*nt, getting what I want, then breaking it'. Under 'Favourite Music', which had once been a plentiful list, he'd put "who cares". Music is his life. Trust me - he cares.

Under his favourite quotes, he'd added "I hate myself and I want to die" by Kurt Cobain and "I used to care, but things have changed" by Dylan. And his succinct description of himself was "26 year old bachelor, who couldn't give a f*** anymore!". Slightly worrying, no?

So even though I'd given up on him and I was disgusted with him for lying to me (he cancelled seeing me on a Saturday night, citing a family emergency. He was out drinking with his friends), I dropped him a quick line just to make sure he was OK, and have heard nothing. But I gather he's feeling much better, given how "big and clever" he now seems to think he is. Yeah, real clever. Quite aside from using someone and lying to them, he responds to messages of genuine concern with a wall of silence. Good God man, grow some damn balls.

It's a shame really, especially thinking back to when we first met, when I decided to go along to his gig. It's kind of sad to think about the huge smile he got on his face when he saw me, how easy things were between us, and how we stayed up talking on my sofa until 2am, and the only physical contact we had the nerve to engage in was gently linking our fingers together. And the amount of times in the weeks afterwards when he'd look at me with a warm, almost disbelieving smile on his face and tell me I was stunning. And how, during the first night we spent together, he said he wished it would never end.

But it did, and I've been racking my brains, trying to figure out what went so wrong. Of course I now know that it was me, letting myself be utterly blinded by hope, choosing to only see the best in him and still, still, still not grasping the very simple concept that men are not, have never been, and will never be good for me.

And as for "big" ..... I've had bigger.