“Let’s play Head’s Up”, she said. “You know, where you have to guess the word that’s written on your head! Oooh, I’ve got the perfect one for you…” She looked at me and wrote down a name. We all played and asked questions to guess the names on our heads. The name on my head was Goebbels, a **** of the worst kind. After a minute or two, my instincts kicked in and I realised what she had done. We broke up two weeks ago and we were back to just being friends. It all seemed a bit below the belt to me. I stood up from the table and said: “So, you think I’m a ****?” I slammed the door and left the bar. She called me back, but not to apologise. She told me it was all just a silly game. “I feel really sad for you,” she said. “It must be awful living in your head with all that paranoia.” I had to give it to her, she was good. “DON’T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL!! GO AWAY!!” I screamed, and hung up the phone. I felt annoyed but also relieved, and went to bed. Just as I began to question my sanity, I understood. If this was an explosive reaction to my buttons being pushed, then I needed to take another bus. She was not the one who was going to help me heal my deepest wounds. I guess friendships only last as long as friends do. Be careful who you hurt. The next day I wrote her a long message, trying to explain Venus to Mars. Sometimes it’s better to let them win their little games. She wrote me a nice formal letter back and that was the end of that, but not the end of the world. It never was, no matter how hard I tried.