I am the King of Too Little, Too Late

So, my girlfriend's dog died today, and where was I? At a get-together with some friends. Did I get up from our card game to console her? No. Did I leave the party earlier than I would have to talk to her? No. Did I ever stop to think about how much she could have used me? Of fucking course not. I did eventually leave the party, but not until 11:00, which is not early by any means. Apparently, she had already talked to my mother, which made me feel like a bigger pile of shit. So the first thing I do is pick up the phone and dial her number. She doesn't answer. I call again and again and again and again, but she doesn't answer. I get on MSN to see if she's there. I see if she's been on Facebook recently. Both negative. The saddest thing was that the party wasn't even that fun. Don't get me wrong, they're cool people, but it's not like I was having the time of my life or anything. Of course, my girlfriend was at her apartment, more than a hundred miles away, hopelessly alone, and mourning the loss of one of her best friends, four-legged or no. Yeah, I tried to get ahold of her, but I didn't. I could've, had I been a responsible, caring partner, but I was having a good time, and her dead dog is a bit of a drag, right? So I stayed where I was, and left her where she was, because I was comfortable, and she was in pain. Did I choose to help her and share in the loss with her? Oh no. That would've been the right thing to do.