Primrose Hill is Suddenly Single

I know, I know. Got to get over it, right? There’s nothing wrong with being an independent woman of the world. We girls don’t have to rely on guys for our happiness. Happiness comes from inside us. That’s what the sisterhood says on Facebook, anyway. And they’re never wrong. And I’ve made a point of remembering it, even though Marcus dumped me by text just before he was due to pick me up for “a special date”. A special date where he’d probably decided to give me the elbow, face to face, but then, with some help from his mates, no doubt, was encouraged to find an easier way to do it. So. Not. Good. The rat. And…I’d done the pink fluffy handcuffs thing he insisted on. Personally, I found it mortifying. Not my idea of a romantic night in, particularly when he left me handcuffed to the bed while he went to get some wine, then met an old friend and went to the pub for a drink, forgetting all about me. I was so cold, and I needed to pee. Badly. Any longer and we’d have both been embarrassed. Me more than him, of course. He thought it was hilarious. Needless to say, the pink fluffy handcuffs were binned.
‘You’re so ditzy,’ he’d said, like it was meant to be a compliment. ‘It’s why I’m so attracted to you.’
‘Oh, really,’ I wanted to say. ‘Not because you think we could be a real item, or in a long-term relationship because you’re falling in love with me, but because I’m ditzy, and because I allow you to keep me prisoner; banged up like a criminal in the Middle Ages while you go to the pub, where it’s warm, and where there’s a loo within walking distance. Charming. And actually, I’m in no way ‘ditzy’. I’ve got a degree. In history. I think that makes me the least ditzy-est person you know.’