With Hugo roadkill, I sought solace in the arms of my flatmate Jordan. I was so aroused, you could have mistaken me for a great horned owl - shame he didn't feel the same way. I was going to have to wing it, and claw my way into his affections.
My feelings for Jordan didn't remain a secret for long. I got horrendously drunk on a whole bottle of Tequila, flapping around the kitchen like some kind of mating-show. With lumps of amber vomit congealing on my quivering chin, bloodshot saucer-eyes and the look of a maniac, I confessed my all-consuming, vagina-shattering love to him. He simply laughed at my loving cooings whilst all I could think of was the alcopoo that I knew would be coming the next day!
The rejection only strengthened my resolve.
I'm the first to admit I have shit game, but punching him was a low point even for me: I'd already fluttered my wings at Mr Willow himself that evening, and naturally found myself rejected. The final twig to fall from my thoroughly-rattled nest was seeing Jordan clamber into a taxi with Sasha. Although now we are great friends, at the time we were sparring sparrows; seeing my rival take home Jordan was too much to bear. To me, a crazy big bird, the normal thing was to deliver a right hook.
Eventually, rather like a dove with an olive branch, Jordan forgave me.
One day I hope we can become each other's soulmate swan.
Then again, mating for life, where's the fun in that?