FFS.

"We're going out later... and GM is coming too. Are you up for it?" read S's text on Saturday evening.

I'd been out the night before and was feeling quite lethargic, but I replied in the positive.

So, I roused myself from the sofa, made my dinner, showered and made myself presentable. I was in no hurry... S and his cronies don't usually head out 'til after 9:30 or so... and it can be as late as 10:30.

When I was still sat in my room watching Beverly Hills Cop at 11PM, I knew he'd forgotten about me, but I wasn't chasing him up. I'm pig-headed that way.

It was Sunday afternoon before he realised what he'd done... and that was only because I was in touch with him about next weekend's arrangements. He rationalised it that I wouldn't have gone out - they'd hit a club that I don't particularly like.

"That's not the point." I replied. "I was waiting for a call, that you promised and instead you just forget about me."

"I don't mind that you ended up going where you did, even though you invited me out. I do mind that you weren't in touch and that this is about the sixth time it happened."

He went quiet for a long time and then replied hours later about our arrangements for next weekend and hasn't mentioned the lack of phone call since.