I’m throwing at her all I’ve got. “Don’t push this guy away just because you are scared. At least give him a try, or you’ll always regret it… Life’s like a primary school contest: you’ll get a golden star just for trying.” She laughs, with a sad undertow. “I should write that on my blog,” I say. “You should,” she says, and holds me tight. A year ago, I would have given me left arm for that hug, that closeness, that affection. Now, it’s just a normal weekend comforting my friend Marie, after the usual “I fucked everything up” call on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Eduardo, the good man, running to help a friend in need. Maybe I’m not such a horrible human being, after all. Or maybe I am, and Marie makes me a bit less horrible. Like my ex, at some point. Like Anna, now. Women. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.