The Wish Bone from the Last Supper.

As I foil wrapped the chicken from our last Sunday dinner together as a family, I couldn't resist freeing the wishbone from its carcass. The heart, which once pumped behind it, had long since stopped beating but the bird had provided feathers to stuff pillows, organic meat for us to roast and now, the chance of a wish.

My wish for some time alone has been granted, giving me space to try and figure out what I really want from life. I've already worked out the fundamental answer - HAPPINESS. It's deciding what I need to do to give me that feeling of peace and contentment that's the tricky part.

In an hour long phone from my sister, I was forced to face up to the idea that 'he's really not that into me' - Lee, that is, not Mr S. Coincidentally, I had been reading an article in Grazia with that very title. In it, comedian and author Greg Behrendt gives women a few truths about men:

• men lie cause they're too terrified to say you're the one
• men are never 'too busy' to get what they want
• if he says 'he's scared', he's just scared of how not into you he is

I've certainly heard the 'busy' and 'scared' lines. The former never washed with me; it's a pathetic excuse for not being able to send a 2 line email, acknowledging the hours I have spent composing an message to him. The reason for the latter, he said, was that he was scared about what would happen between us. Afraid of breaking up two families. Frightened that his wife would take his children away. Worried that he'd be the 'one everyone hates'.

The idea that he's not that into me would more digestible if he hadn't declared his love for me or told me I was 'the one'. I know people's feelings change over time, but I'm struggling to deal with the demotion from 'the one' to the 'no-one'. I'm confused, I'm lonely, impatient and humiliated.

I'll pull that wishbone tomorrow, and even if I don't win, I'll be making a wish - for clarety.