The end of the beginning

-Damn! I screwed it! That's exactly what I told myself on that unfortunate Tuesday afternoon, moments after making the move of my life. You know when you have one of those bloody hard soccer games that you just have to clock at any cost but you can't? I felt 100 times worse. The thing is, THIS game can't be clocked by a loser... at least a loser like me. I woke up quite confident that morning, knowing that I'd have to break it to her, no matter the cost, I had to tell her what I'd been saving back for the good part of 5 months... Of course I kind of digged her pretty face from the moment I saw it. First looks were not deceiving. I got my damn suite on... about a pound of gel that would make Travolta proud and my nifty arnette's. I felt like a recruit on his way to Guadalcanal, forseeing the first bullet striking through his chest. Duty called, I walked up to her, sat down, my head wizzed with all the beer I had drunk before. I personally think that they should start calling it a miracle and not plain BEER... I was cool, told her all I felt and that the only reason I never said a word before had to do with her okie... probably the luckiest fucker on Earth. I had planned to say what I had to say and simply walk away. She held me back and called the sentence. I got the friendship line, for the one thousandth time in 20 years... ok... 7 years... impossible as it may seem I did NOT hit on the nurse during labour! She was dazzled! She didn't see it coming! Even though practically everyone in the city already knowing that I fancied her (her included) she seemed struck!! I FINALLY walked away. We're still friends, even though I lost the match and threw away the game, I still liked it... I never scored but hopefully I'm not the only one. Now I'm gonna rest my eyes. Games are harmful at least till the new version comes out. GAME OVER. I lost. Christ had a purpose for all this, I'll never understand what.