AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place over the new column, and starts at the time Bridget gets the phone call from her mum. I don't have time to cover the whole column, so it will be just be key events. I can't see Mark saying V.G. or Gaaaaah, so this is his thoughts, although a few parts will have things in common with Bridget's diary. I decided to make Mark a Nick Hornby character of sorts. If the reviews are good, I'll continue.

God, how could I be so stupid? Five days and I haven't decided whether to call, nothing. Makes me seem like Daniel bloody Cleaver or something. I used to be the nice one, the one who treated her well. Now I'm the arsehole. Oh, who am I kidding? I was never good enough. Just a boring lawyer. Bridget was sexy, funny, interesting… At least at the beginning. Everything just seemed to go downhill. And then trying to have a baby… Look, I don't want to talk about it. Except that after a certain point we couldn't stand the sight of each other any more. And then five days ago, it was like Christmas all those years ago when we first got it together all over again and… The thing is, if I call, will we just go back to where we were? Or will she say, "Look, Mark, it's over. Just high spirits, OK? And by the way, I've got a new boyfriend and he's 22 and 6 foot 4 and muscular, and isn't a boring arse like you." I wonder what she'll be doing tonight. Sitting in 192 with her friends saying:

"God, I hope that guy doesn't call. What was his name again? Michael, perhaps? Marcus?"

Or:

"What a bastard. Stupid mistake. I'm glad to be rid of him."

Or:

"Why, sure, Colin, I'd love to come over to your house. Can you wear a wet white shirt?"

Or worst of all, in someone's house saying:

"Yes! Yes! I never knew it could be this good!"

God. This is truly insane. Maybe I should just call her and clear it up for once and all. At this rate I'll be in nursing home thinking, God it's been 50 years, maybe I should call Bridget after all.

God, life is so dull. Get up. Go to work. Come home. Sit by myself. Sleep. Repeat. God, even the worst parts of being with Bridget were ten times better than this. Giles came over to my office this morning and had the bloody nerve to ask HOW BRIDGET WAS.

"I wouldn't know. We've split." And by the way, we slept together five days ago, and I can't even decide whether to bloody call?

"I'm sorry." Sorry, my arse.

To make it worse, I heard two secretaries talking on the phone about some man. Will they ever fucking work?

"Listen to this," the blonde was saying into the phone reading from some self-help book, "He's just not that into you if he doesn't call. If he hasn't called 2 days, or God forbid, five days after sex, rest assured he isn't sitting at his desk anguishing over you. He sees it as a one night stand, has forgotten you, and is coming onto his little blond secretary. See, Lisa? You need to forget about him." Odd, because she was little, blond, and a secretary, and I had no interest in coming onto her. The brunette was shouting into the phone, reading from the same book.

"He's just not that into you if you're broken up. Regardless of whether you've had ex sex, he still wants to be broken up. He's used you, abused you, and moved on. He's a git, plain and simple, and believe us, someday he will meet his match and get his heart stomped on. That's exactly what's going to happen to Jack. He deserves it." Great. I was turning into a monster before my very eyes. I don't think I can take getting my heart stomped on again. God, I hope Bridget has never read this book. But knowing her, she's probably read it from cover to cover. It was probably written for the Daniel Cleavers. Congratulations, Mark. Welcome to Daniel Cleaver Land. Pull up a chair, have a drink, and talk about ways to "use and abuse" women in general, and Bridget in particular. The brunette started yapping, pulling out another book.

"And if his divorce was finalised less than a year before he asked you on a date, then no matter how long you've been in a relationship you're a rebound girl and---" Was that book written about me?

This was it. I got up.

"Excuse me, but some of us are trying to work. I can hear from inside my office."

"All right." The blond sounded annoyed. As I walked away I could hear them chatting to each other.

"What's wrong with HIM?" The blond hissed.

"I hear he split with his girlfriend." The brunette whispered.

"Over three months ago. He should get over it. They were right, of course. I should, but I can't seem to manage to. I have a sneaking suspicion I might still be in love with her.