Mixed Signals

Oh big mistake. Last night I was reading through my old messages from Knight and feeling very sentimental, so I texted him back.
What's the worst that could happen? I asked myself.
Well, chums, here's what happened:
I texted him telling him it would take more than a drunk text for us to be friends again. He replied instantly and said that he wasn't drunk and that we should meet up. I texted back that he should name a date and then I idiotically joked that he should give me the tie-dye t-shirt he promised to give me last year. Bazz is right, that made me sound eager.
Oh, and he didn't reply.
I'm so sick of playing games. If a guy likes a girl he should tell her. If a girl likes a guy she should tell him. If a guy suggests meeting up with a girl he shouldn't then ignore her; no, if a guy apologises for ignoring a girl then he shouldn't then ignore her.
I mean, DAFUQ?!

So from this we have established that Knight is a complicated closed-book Knob. I've always taken full responsibility for the fact that we didn't work out: I had my stupid commitment issues and my ridiculous obsession with work and I punched his heart. But last night told me that it wasn't completely my fault - you can't make a friendship work with someone who will pick you up and then drop you.
And so my lovely Knight in Abercrombie in Fitch is actually a tosser in disguise.

Who knew?
Keep you posted and promise no more rants,
Grammar Gal.

After reading my conversations with Knight last night I just feel so...
A. Idiotic for letting him go
B. Depressed that I will never find that again.
And now Z pales by comparison.
And Prince was too shy; Duke was too dull; Giraffe was too obnoxious; Afro was not my type; the boys from Prince's ball were just...bland.
I fucking hate Knight. I had fully come to terms with the end of our friendship and then he texts me out of the blue. What a complete scumbag.
Eurgh, I'm going back to the Nunnery Agreement. Better yet, maybe I'll find another rebound.