the drunk text dilemma.

And the (evil) power of the ‘Send’ button.


It’s kind of inevitable, isn’t it?

Boy meets girl*. Someone swipes right. Someone shares their newspaper on the train. Whatever. *Something* happens.
Boy asks for girls number. Girl feels like Beyoncé for the rest of the day.
Boy texts girl. Girl responds to text after what is deemed to be an appropriate amount of time has passed.**
Boy asks girl out on a date.
Boy and girl get emotionally tangled.
Something something, fast forward X amount of days/weeks/months/years and POOF!

La fin. It’s over, kids.

But that’s not where the story ends, is it? Oh, no. That’d be far too easy. (more…)

after all this time.

I hate to admit it, but there is still a tiny part of me which still isn’t over you.
(Yeah, I know.)


“Just because I finally got over you, doesn’t mean there are days when it all just comes rushing back” – a quote I found on Pinterest. 

After all this time I still think about you and what we could’ve been. It’s not like you were The One That Got Away (and I don’t think that I was that person for you either), which is a good thing as it’d be quite depressing you were.

What I mean, is that, despite knowing rationally that there were very good reasons why things didn’t work out between us, there is a little part of my brain which likes to create these narratives about you and I. Yes, that’s right, rascals – I have too much free brain space and I am a sad human being. Don’t worry – my sibling already reminds me of these things regularly. 

It can be as simple as a song which reminds me of you and only you. Or seeing you post something on Facebook. Or hanging out in areas where I know I could bump into you (I’d just like to clarify for if we do bump into each other, that I just like hanging out there and I was in those bars before there was something between us… but let’s not lie: I secretly want to bump into you.) Or it could be doing things which remind me of you cos they’re things that you love doing, too. Or it could be someone who looks like you – with the same kind of build and facial hair. Or an accent which is just like yours and which makes me melt in exactly the same way as yours did.

All of these little things remind me of you. I can’t help it. I just can’t seem to shake the memory of you.

Does it mean that I’m not over you? Or that I want someone or something new in my life? Or something else altogether? It means you have a hankering for brie, girl. Obvs.

Am I crazy for letting you roam around in my imagination? Uhh. How is that even a question, Alex?  Ok. So evidently I am. It is not a helpful thing. I get that.

But, wait. What if we had stronger feelings for each other a second time round? What if the timing was better? What if you were more emotionally available? What if I was a better version of me? What if…

Do you know what the most annoying thing about all of this is? I got over you. I did cleanse you from my system. I didn’t Facebook stalk you and I was actually very happy that things didn’t continue between us. And then? Then I have these moments where I let my mind wander…

I know that, objectively, thinking about all of the things that could have been with gents from a long time ago is genuinely stupid – even for me. Why on earth am I torturing myself like this? And how did you get so far under my skin? How can I deep cleanse you from my system once again?

I guess this is the part of the blog post where the ‘resolution’ of sorts belongs: where we find a solution to my mild ‘thinking about men from my past’ addiction. But, honestly? I don’t know. It’s not like I can predict when you’re going to appear in my thoughts and its not like I want you there in my mind. Perhaps I need to put some preventative strategies in place. Yes, that could be a good start.

But how do you stop an over-thinker from over-thinking?

Something for this chick with too much spare brain space to ponder, I guess. Perhaps that’s it – perhaps I need to overload my brain with other stuff that has nothing to do with my love life. You could actually be onto something, Alex. In the meantime, suggestions would actually be great. I’ll thank you for your help by showering you with brownies. (And I make great brownies, if I do say so myself.)

In the meantime, at least Snape and Bon Iver get me. That’s a comfort.

Alex x


I have buried you
Every place I’ve been
You keep ending up
In my shaking hands

You keep ending up
Every place I’ve been
In my shaking hands
Every place I am

“A Song For a Lover of Long Ago”, Bon Iver


what to do what your ex gets married: a DIY guide.

This post comes accompanied by a soundtrack of “Falling” by HAIM and Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek”.

As I type this sentence my ex is getting married.

He is standing in the church at this very moment. He is going to say his vows any minute now. Literally now.

And that’s ok. But this moment feels surreal, nonetheless.

I wasn’t particularly ok when I heard the news of his engagement just over twelve months ago: I felt like I was in a car crash in a movie – where everything gets thrown backwards and then forwards in slow motion for what seems like hours. Despite having long moved on from him I was in shock.. and I was surprised at just how much it stung.

Perhaps this was because of who he was to me. See, he wasn’t just an ex. He was my first one. And not only was he my first relationship, he was my first (nearly) everything else. Fill in the gaps, Clouseau.

Not only was he all of this, our families have been best friends since before we were born.
Not only this, he is my Dad’s godson and the apple of his eye.
Not only have we known each other for all of our 22 years, there was a time when it wouldn’t have surprised our parents if it was us who were getting married today. (Yes, they verbalised that).

Quite someone. 

Well, for a time.

Thankfully, the feeling-like-I’m-in-a-slow-motion-car-crash sensation only lasted for 36 hours, during which I consulted my reliable sidekick, Google, with the statement: “my ex is getting married”. The blogs and forums that I found were quite comforting with their general advice and sentiment of “this too shall pass”. And they were right: it has become easier and easier since then.. although, I’m not going to lie, there have been some plenty of moments over the past twelve months which have been less than.. enjoyable.

Initially, it felt like The Wedding was all that my parents could talk about. Yay! Then attention turned to the wardrobe, with my Mum constantly consulting me on what to wear to The Wedding. Only two new dresses, two new pairs of heels, one new bag and a fascinator were required to finally formulate the perfect outfit. Yes, mention of The Wedding made me bristle up quite easily initially.

I should explain: It’s not that I want (or wanted) to be with him. No, not in the vaguest. See, I fell for the 16 year old him.. and we’ve both changed and grown so much since then. In fact, I don’t actually know who he is today..

No. I think part of the pain came from receiving that final confirmation that my youthful dreams for my life would never become a reality. Dreams in which he played a starring role.

Those dreams and plans were put through the shredder many years ago, but hearing that he had put a ring on it (oh, Queen B) momentarily brought everything to the surface again. It felt like some annoying git was rubbing this bizarre form of defeat in my face, declaring in permanent marker that we were never, ever going to be together. Yes, thank you, sir. I got that memo and if you remember correctly, it was my dream and it was I who chose to put that dream through the shredder in the first place.

As I type this my parents are watching my ex getting married. My Dad is doing a reading during the ceremony, in fact. I was invited to The Wedding and I would’ve been happy to go, but, as it so happens, it is being held in England. And, let’s be honest: I wasn’t going to pay a few thousand dollars to flog my arse over to the other side of the world during the middle of the uni semester to a wedding during which I would’ve been faking a smile.

But, here’s the thing: that was my rationale this time last year. I think that if I was sitting in the church with my parents today that my smile would be genuine, because I have since realised that even if things had worked out between him and I, that I do not want the life that he wants, nor the path that he is taking.

I know that, personally, I am not ready to get married. I’m still getting to know myself and, let’s not lie, I am looking forward to spending my 20s enjoying life without too many major commitments or responsibilities. I don’t think that getting married young is a bad thing, but it’s just not right for me at this present moment.

So, I am happy for him and his (now) wife. I hope that their marriage is long, happy, peaceful and full of contentment.

I send them nothing but my love and the small smile playing upon my lips.


Alex x