I parted ways with a boy in 2010, and at the time was extremely ill, something about my stomach lining. I spent a long time pining and generally struggling to fall out of love, and I’d gotten to a kind of functional equilibrium about a year and a half later when I saw him again for the first time. I became disorientated, and I ran. I ran right into Someone Else and was a little stunned to realise how amazing it is to be on the receiving end of kindness.

My ex contacted me afterwards but that night had been the last of it, a thunderous exit of my feelings for him, and I was gloriously indifferent. But I wasn’t indifferent to Someone Else, and when he began a relationship not long afterward I’m convinced I heard my heart break- a sound like a little tin tack falling on a ceramic tile.

It’s not all broken hearts and high-strung dames though; the pinging echo of the tack on the tile was a sudden, clean break, an antidote for he breakup of 2010, and after I’d written this I felt sweet clarity and a sense of peace. It was (again) 4am when I wrote this, Currawong were singing, false dawn was rising, and I felt surprisingly good.

I realised then that perhaps I had let myself get too carried away. I had been hugely self-absorbed since the encounter with my ex; I should have given a shit about Someone Else’s feelings, and worse than that being over my ex didn’t mean that I was suddenly repaired of all ex-related damages. Still, I like to think that I bowed out gracefully, and the experience was good to me.