In which it all comes apart like a cheap Ikea bookcase.

The last few days have been excruciating.

It started on Saturday. I had an all day sporting event to go to, Mr Singular had an all day family event. We agreed to meet up in the evening for massive amounts of sex. Well, perhaps not so specifically, but with my cold sore finally healed, and it being Saturday night after nearly two weeks of chastity, it was understood.

I went to the barber early in the morning so that my hair would be looking its most stylish and sexiest. I met KCG, his new boyfriend, and the Human Dynamo's new boyfriend and went to our sporting event. Over the next few hours I allowed myself to tell KCG about the new man I was seeing. I also allowed myself the satisfaction of knowing that now that KCG, the Human Dynamo and I were all in nascent relationships, we'd crossed a line and "made it". If we weren't up on the winner's dais at the Gay Olympics, we were at least competing successfully.

At around 6pm we were in the car heading home. KCG's boyfriend had exhausted himself and was asleep in the front seat, and I watched as KCG stole cute, affectionate glances at him as he drove. The Human Dynamo's boyfriend was texting little love notes to the Human Dynamo, who couldn't be there because of work. Suddenly my phone chimed, and I saw that it was from Mr Singular.

I have to cancel tonight. Will not be home any time soon. Sorry.

I felt... numb. He'd been a bit standoffish when I'd seen him on Thursday, but I'd put that down to a lingering fear of my cold sore. I'd asked him to make sure that he didn't drink too much at his family thing (his family are apparently massive binge drinkers) so that he'd be in fit state to deal with me. But it seems that wasn't enough. The message was pretty clear: I'm okay, but when it comes down to a choice of spending the night with me and getting hammered with the cousins he gets hammered with at least once every few weeks... the cousins won.

Understood, I texted back. Meaning, "Oh, I understand all right. Fuck you too."

KCG dropped me off at home, making a ribald joke about hoping that his boyfriend still had enough energy for the evening's activities. I smiled, but only on the outside. Later that night Mr Singular sent me another text. So yet another family event that's left me feeling like shit. Not sure why I go to them, actually...

"Whatever", I said to myself in disgust, and tossed my phone onto an armchair.

The next morning, around 9am, he texted, Sorry about last night. It was longer than I thought. What are you up to today?

"Yeah, I'm really feeling the sorrow", I muttered, and I went off to have breakfast.

Throughout the day I checked my phone to see if there were any more messages. There weren't. Any missed calls? No. Any suggestion of, GTR, are you okay? or Is something wrong? Apparently not. Just silence.

He really had tired of me. I'd known him for less than three weeks, and he'd already grown bored with me. I cleaned the house and fretted. I went out with some friends in the evening just to take my mind off it. Then I barely slept all night. The next morning, Monday, I checked my email... nothing.

On Monday evening I went to see my therapist and discussed the matter with him. I knew I had to be the mature one and resolve this one way or another. He made some conflict resolution suggestions, and when the session was finished I called Mr Singular and asked if I could come over. He agreed.

As per my therapist's suggestions, I took him a little gift (a cookie) and started with an apology ("I'm sorry I didn't respond to your texts"). Then I waited to hear what he had to say.

It was all my fault, apparently. After I didn't respond to his second text he decided that he was never contacting me again. It was playing games, and he hates people who play games. It was a deal-breaker. I apologised again, not abjectly, but sincerely, for causing him pain... all the while thinking, "Do you really imagine that this is all about you? That you're the only one who suffered here?"

Slowly, over the next few hours, the anger dissipated. We had a glass of wine. We sat on the sofa and talked. We watched more Will & Grace with him resting his head in my lap and me stroking his hair. He was less brittle but still withdrawn, and uncommunicative. We kissed a little - tiny, passionless pecks - and left him around 11pm. As I drove away I thought that our relationship had been damaged, and maybe it could be healed, but it certainly wasn't going to be as smooth as either of us had hoped.

Cut to the next morning. Full of hope for the future, I flicked him an email to his work address around 11.30. There's no reply, but I assumed he was busy or maybe away from the office.

Around 2.15, I sent him a jokey little text. He usually responds pretty quickly, but this time there was nothing.

And slowly, horribly, sickeningly, it dawned on me. All of his talk about not communicating being "game-playing" and "a deal breaker"... it was a setup. He'd been tiring of me and my little stunt had pushed him over the edge, but he couldn't leave it with me having the final say over the relationship. So he went along with the reconciliation. He let me think that we had talked it out. He sent me on my way thinking that things were okay, all the while intending to turn the tables and ignore my every attempt at contact from now on.

The hypocricy was staggering. The vindictiveness even moreso. He said goodnight to me knowing that the truth of what was going on creep up on me, humiliatingly, over the next 24 hours.

I called his mobile around 5.45pm from my office phone. It went to voicemail and I didn't leave a message. When I got home from work I called again, this time from my mobile. There's no response, but by this time I would have been surprised if there was one. He's screening his calls. I was tempted to leave a nasty message, but I just asked him to call me. I didn't expect him to, but it was the adult thing to do to give him the option to do the right thing.

How do I get out of this on top? I wondered. There's no point trying to salvage the relationship. After battling with fury and anger and soul-crushing anguish for a few hours, I had an epiphany. Humility. Apologise to him, sincerely and from the heart, and say goodbye to him forever. Acknowledge that, whatever his behaviour, I did the wrong thing and I need to say that clearly and properly and without any hope of getting anything out of it. Basically, be the better man and genuinely wish him well.

I composed a message, right from the heart, but written down so that I didn't say anything stupid or give in to a sudden flash of hurt or anger. I wanted to do this right. I thought about leaving it right there and then on his voicemail, and get it all over and done with, but the timing seemed wrong so I decided to wait until morning.

Around 10pm, after setting up a date with a new guy on Manhunt, and with numbness starting to replace the hurt, I had a perverse desire to look at my last message to him again. I opened up the text app on my phone and suddenly saw the New Message light next to his name.

What the fuck?

The phone had been sitting next to me for the last few hours. It hadn't chimed. There'd been no icon for a new message. I tapped it open.

There was a response to my jokey little text, and then Wassup? Not at home and can't really talk.

WHAT THE FUCK???

What's he still doing out? I wondered. He works an early morning shift and he's usually asleep by now... I checked the timestamp next to the message. It's from three hours earlier!

WHAT. THE. FUCK???

MY FUCKING CARRIER HAS DELAYED HIS FUCKING MESSAGE FOR THREE FUCKING HOURS!!!

Working backwards, I determine that he must have texted me right after I phoned him.

I sent him a text saying that I only just got the message. A moment later my phone rang, so softly that it's barely audible even in a silent room. Somehow the ringer volume had been turned right down. It would explain why I didn't hear it chime, but not why there was no icon for a new message on the home screen.

"Hello?"

Hey, I just rolled over in bed and saw that you texted me.

"Uh, yeah. Fucking Vodafone. It only just gave me the message you sent three hours ago!"

It's shit. All telcos are shit.

"I know."

So what did you want to talk to me about?

All of my anger, my hurt, my hope, basically every feeling I have is crashing around my ears and I can't think straight. "I just wanted to know if you were okay."

Uh... yeah?

"Since you said you hadn't been sleeping well, and been tired all the time."

Yeah, I slept pretty well. Too short, but pretty well.

"Good. Good."

I ended the call as quickly as I could. I had no idea what to feel. This morning I had hopes we could start anew. This afternoon I realised he had betrayed me and was playing me for a sap. This evening I overcame my anger and hurt and resolved to end it with dignity and maturity. And then late at night I find out that everything I'd felt over the last ten hours was wrong.

Maybe.

I can't deal with this. Nothing has changed since I wistfully thought about how much I missed him this morning... but my feelings for him are dead. The stress has killed them.