He realised there was no point to his pursuing of love.
It was a zero-zero win for him; a zero-zero win.
Life had finally done him in.
There was nothing he could do to imagine at all that a woman like C might ever stay the course.
What was the use of starting if the end was so damn clear? A life of battling fearfully against his sense of diminishing responsibility.
And only that kept him straight and upright. Only that made him hold onto life.
At least that he had. At least this life of sad.