I was once seeing a man who gave me the runaround. We split up 3 times, always his idea… the final time was on my birthday. On. My. Birthday.
I pined for him for months and months. One day, I was driving home from work along the motorway and “need a little time” by The Beautiful South came on my mix CD. I realised that, just like the song, he also had a big fat head and I didn’t need his loser ass no more.
It was like a light had gone on in my head and I started to actually, truly get over him.
At (I assume) precisely the same moment, my ex suddenly became acutely aware of my new found state of mind. Because that’s how the universe works. They always know. Soon he let me know that he wanted me back.
No chance.
I had a wonderful few months. Traveled with friends, taught myself how to make an incredible paella (still my signature dish, TYVM) and had repeated sex with a Canadian man who’s penis was so big it couldn’t fit all the way inside me.
About 10 months later, whilst looking super thin and sexy, I bumped into the loser that dumped me on my birthday. We were married 3 years later. We now have 3 children, 2 cats and a draughty old house in the countryside. I love him very much. Never told him about the Canadian.