And so, that was that. I looked at the phone, guiltily ... and the wine glass, accusingly. Stupid, stupid, stupid; what was I thinking? Well, of course, when there's a wine glass in my hand, thinking is the last thing on my mind. Maybe she'd say forget about it. Relax. It's not that big a deal. She'd been so reassuring about the gay/straight thing. "Don't worry about it. You're too anxious", she'd said. And then, late at night, fuelled by yet another glass of wine, I'd sent the flirty Whatsapp message: actually, way more than flirty. Maybe she hadn't read it yet. I picked up my mobile and checked it. There were notifications. Too late. There was a reply. She'd read and answered. There, in Fire and Ice and Fury, was her reply in black and white. It was much worse than I feared. She'd made it perfectly clear she was straight. We'd developed a trust between us. I'd completely broken that trust. Once someone betrayed her, that was it, they were out of her life. I sat, gazing at the phone in my hand, a tear coursed down my cheek. This couldn't be mended. This was broken. All I could do was retreat gracefully, apologise and ask for forgiveness. She replied, politely but coldly, "Helen, we discussed this when we started chatting. You knew I'd had some difficult times with guys who couldn't be trusted. Please don't contact me again." I wanted to appeal, but Judge Julie had delivered her verdict. It was final.