We live in a day and age where we all know what it feels like to have our heart broken by the man who ain’t our man. Not to mention, the anger and utter dislike of his new man, who stole the man that ain’t our man. Like, how fucking dare you, Pablo?

A few years back when the man who weren’t my man, but was acting like my man, all while not acting at all like my man, started seeing a new man. And it just so happened to be a scene acquaintance I’d known for years. Fan-fucking-tastic.

So now, not only does the man who hurt me get to be happy, but he gets to smear it all over my news feed like a toddler playing with their own shit. Naturally, I unfollowed his new man immediately, (he’d been unfollowed months before).

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Cut to me, sipping a glass of pino one afternoon in Clapham, minding my own, and his new man liked one of my Facebook statuses. Like, who in the HAM SAM gave you permission to even breathe the same virtual air as me?

I’m pretty sure he had no idea he was making a meal of my leftovers, but I decided to look at his profile, just on the off-chance that he was now miserable. And… he WAS. Completely miserable! Sometimes the big guy upstairs really has your back, you know?

Please see actual footage of me:

I could feel the grin stretching the sides of my mouth, like a Cheshire cat on Valium.

I genuinely felt happy from the inside out. Perhaps I sound petty, shallow, and even nasty relishing in another’s unhappiness… But I’m OK with that. It was nothing personal, but my heart couldn’t bare to see the man who weren’t my man unjustly get his happy ending before me.

Jump forward a week, in a Soho bar, and I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around…

…to see the now-ex of the man who weren’t my man. That cheshire grin slid off my face and down my top.

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I thought about being politely rude and leaving… But what good journalist ignores a scoop? Instead I Meryl Streep’d my way into the nitty-gritty.

All he was giving me nothing but glum faces at first… Like, OK, you’re sad, I get it. But bitch, I need DETAILS.

“Didn’t you just break-up with your boyfriend?” I pried, as though I was totally unconnected to this.

Girl, I barely even put the kettle on, and the tea was flowing. He divulged the details of their messy break-up and turbulent relationship before I’d even finished my drink. The man who wasn’t my man, but I’d wanted to be my man, was clearly a different man when you’re not wearing rosé-tinted goggles.

Although I’d initially sought comfort in the breakdown of their relationship, the first-hand accounts of violence, aggression and jealousy weren’t so fun. I’d obsessed for months about why it hadn’t worked, but now I felt relieved.

Just call me Neo, bitch, ’cause I hadn’t just dodged a bullet, I’d dodged an entire massacre.

As I looked into the hurt eyes of someone I used to hate, I grabbed his hand, and told him to message me if he needed anything. OH, Y’ALL WANTED A TWIST?! Tell me about it.

But what I realised is that we were both fucked over by the same person; had things gone my way, and it could’ve been me.

The thing when you lose someone that you had a strong connection with, it can – and probably will – feel awful for a while. But, and at the risk of sounding like a single mum dosed up on self-help relationship advice: everything happens for a reason.

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You only ever see that person in their best light when they’re gone, and often we forget about their negative traits or make allowances for certain behaviours because of the rare connection we’ve made. But you never know how things would have worked out, and it’s simply your path being redirected.

I could never have imagined the man who wasn’t my man having as many issues as he seemed to have. So rather than pine for the man who was never right for you to begin with, take a step back to appreciate your redirection.

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