The update

I've barely spent a half-hour with her since last semester. Hell, I haven't spent real time with her since the year began. Our clashing timetables cut us off from one another. Sure, we tried to arrange things away from uni, but things get strained when you're not an organic part of someone's life. I don't really know what's going on in her world, so many lightyears away from my own. When someone has to check whether you're still with "your girl", you know you're not so close any more.

Today I found her down at Einsteins, swinging a pot of beer with a collection of friends I didn't recognise. She told me she was "liberated". Her life was on a completely new track. "I can finally concentrate on being really single again," she said.
Hey?
She leaned closer and murmured, "I'll explain later." Following her own gaze, I glanced around at her merry assortment of friends. Half-past-one-pee-em and the lot of them were tiddly and giggly and quoting Bill Bailey. Fair enough - DMC later.
Now she leapt from her seat, heralding the next round and disappearing inside. I sat at the corner of the table, still anonymous. Laugh at the jokes. Enjoy the atmosphere. You don't need to be involved to appreciate the vibe. I absorbed the faces of her new friends: a loud, cackling, drunken blonde. A skinny guy with glasses and an admirable devotion to British comedy. An intellectual-looking, fair-haired older man with jumbled teeth and a nose that ended before it I felt it rightly should.
The intellectual handed out birthday invitations - I didn't merit one, but then, who was I, anyway? The invitations read, "You are invited to an un-birthday. To celebrate nothing in particular."
"He's turning thirty. I'm gonna get 'im a walking frame," shouted the blonde. "Mug an old lady on my way in."
He smirked. I smiled, charmed somehow by their language, so different from mine.
Her smile seemed almost twice the width of her face as she swaggered back to the table wielding a jug of glorious amber piss. The requisite cheer went out, and the jug was almost instantly empty. I was a bit disappointed to see it go. I don't drink beer and have rare occasion to observe those tiny bubbles that flow constantly upward from the base of the jug: quite a mesmerising alternative to actual conversation. As the beer vanished, I remembered I was an outsider. The culture of this group revolved around drinking and smoking between classes, skipping class and playfully attacking one another. I am Sandra Dee.
Finally it was two o'clock. "We've got class," I said.

After a few ta-ta cuddles round the table, the two of us were up and marching for B building.
"Oh," she said. "So I was going to tell you."