Hmmm, how about he’s my Ex. When I’d probably still rather wish he wasn’t.
The trouble is I’ve still not mustered up the self esteem, or sanity, to hate him yet. Which at the moment would be very helpful.
It would at least potentially stop me from eating so many bloody crisps all the time. And I’ve started on the Christmas After Eights already.
I’ve written this blog under a pseudonym. But I’ve used his surname. Well he used to tell me it’d be my name one day!
Is that unhinged? Answers on a postcard.