The first time my heart was broken – and I say this with a fairly solid definition of what heartbreak feels like for me, and how it’s different to a simple, everyday hurt – it felt like the world was going to end. There was too much emotion to hold inside my fragile body, and it stayed for so long that I couldn’t conceive of the possibility that one day it wouldn’t be there any more. This heartbreak – puny and pathetic now I come to think about it – was caused by the wandering, horny eye of an eighteen-year-old boy.

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Back when I was dating, in the times Before Him, a mate used to sometimes ask the question: “is he a friend? Or a Good Friend?” Good friend – that’s how we discerned them. The boys I was fucking from the boys I was not. I’m gonna tell you now about one of my Good Friends.

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I had a different plan for today. I had a different blog post for today. And seriously, tune in next week on Sunday because it’s lovely – cute and uplifting and warm and happy and Stuart’s drawn a gorgeous image to go with it. I had a very different plan for today.

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There are tonnes of things to mourn at the end of a relationship. Not least, in my case, a really awesome holiday I had planned for April this year. Lockdown put paid to that, but the ferry tickets still exist, and the rescheduled dates sit in my diary taunting me: a cycling trip with fondue and fucking and fun which will now likely never come to pass. There are infinite possible worlds in which we didn’t break up, or in which we broke up in far less painful ways, where some of this stuff might have occurred. But in this world, the one that exists for me, here are a few fucks that will never happen.

Note: the third story in this trilogy involves sex-while-asleep. It’s pre-negotiated and fully consensual, but I know some people aren’t into that, so this is just here to let you skip over it if you’d like to. 

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I’m having a lot of nightmares at the moment. Don’t feel sorry for me, if I were to write posts purely to gain sympathy I’d find far more interesting things to pin them on. I think the nightmares – like clockwork, at 4am, unless I take a sleeping tablet – are a way of processing a lot of break-up sadness so that during the day I can get on with being my proactive, practical self. They are horrible, but they’re also good in a way because when I wake up I realise that the world holds far more promise and possibility than my dreaming brain would have me believe. I also reckon I’m not the only one who has struggled with some of this after a break up so I thought I’d get some decent content out of ranking them from best to worst. Here are my top 4 break-up nightmares.

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