The jungle boy...

So after four months in Guyana and a lot of crazy men, i thought that I'd finally found, well not the one, but a special one.

He was hot (it's not always my first preference, but it often helps), interesting - he lived in the jungle, so amazingly sweet, had amazing biceps, a hairy chest that rivalled Austin Powers and didn't wear underwear.

After striking up an acquaintance in Buddy's (not a cool place to meet, but still, i was drunk and he was hot), a flurry of feelings ensued.

We met every day, chatted endlessly and I really thought I was falling for him.

However good things don't last forever - hell, they don't even last three weeks it appears. No sooner was I considering changing my flight, my plans, my life, he asked to borrow some money.

One part of me wanted to think the best of him, however after listening to advice from friends, I started to believe he was just out for what he could get.

Things went kind of weird after that, partly because I felt I couldn't trust him and partly because he is an ass.

However, we continued to communicate and it all culminated the other day when we met, I screamed at him like a crazy woman, he threw in the L word, I screamed some more and then (oh, the shame)I shed some tears. In retrospect, I should have thrown something too - just for effect.

Anyway, he's gone now. Back to the jungle. To mine gold. He asked if he could come and see me before he left. I said no. I thought my aunt would give him the third degree. And I had flu. He then said he'd call and he never did.

Which suggests to me, he is an ass who should get the hell back to his excavator and hammock in the stupid jungle and stay there forever with Mowgli and Baloo the Bear (although that does sound fun).

The whole situation breaks my heart. Yes, he did break my heart. Infact he didn't just break it. He broke it. Ripped it out. Stamped on it. Then threw it in the dirty, stinking trench. And while I hope that he'll call, I know deep in my heart he probably won't... for the first time in four months my phone is tone and it's silent.

Like my soul, like my heart.

Oh dear, now I am being overly dramatic. I don't regret what happened. I enjoyed every second of those feelings, even the crazed ones. I guess this is what we live for. The extreme highs (which are way too often followed by the extreme lows).

What doesn't kill you, indeed makes you stronger, and if nothing else - it's great material for the book.