I'm definitely in the recovering addict camp. Told myself I'm over it, over her, I can handle 'one last hit'.
So, I tell myself, the object of the evening is to chat with anyone else and just leave her be. But I'm a grownup, I can handle it.
Sitting there, chatting to someone else. She's on the other side of the room - its all good. It's all good until she gets up and walks over. I think, as ever that she looks a bit rough. I'm sure she's thinking the same about me.
Then we made eye contact and I was back at square one. She came and sat down by my side and asked me whether I had 'any news' ( I assume she was asking whether I'd met someone new). Then she was softly, gently, telling me how she couldn't sleep; she wasn't eating properly; she hated her job; she wanted to escape. And of course, like a trained seal, my mind started running through all the well worn 'tricks': ways I could rescue her; I could 'see' her curled up next to me in bed, sleeping, after I'd massaged all troubles away. We'd cure each other with our soft, sapphic love. I snapped out of the fantasy long enough to realise we were at the bar and she was buying me a drink - something soft (naturally) and trying to persuade me to make it a proper drink. I declined. Then we were interrupted and later she made a swift exit. And like that, the shutters came down again and I was sort of bereft. Amazing how limerence had taken hold agaib in the space of a couple of hours. Haven't heard from her since, of course, becuase its all a big nothing to her. Amazing, really.