Bumbling Dad. Midlife dating tales from London.

Nobody likes being dumped.  Although excuse me for stating the bleeding obvious. I got dumped a year ago.  On New Year's Eve, which is already the most overrated day of the year.  And it broke me. The thing that really hurt about the end, above all else, was the way that I was assured that what we'd had was so special, so precious, that it didn't deserve to be discarded like meaningless litter. Right up to the point that I was discarded like meaningless litter; blocked and deleted; cut out and cold-shouldered at my absolute lowest ebb.  Dismantled, depleted, and depressed, then dumped in a fashion swifter and chillier than Bear Grylls can manage a shit on an Arctic expedition. But we live, and we learn. We try to forgive, or we actually, eventually, genuinely, do. Full disclosure : I'd been the one who'd originally undermined the whole thing early doors. I'd dumped her. On her birthday. Whilst mid-air. Flying towards something we both desperately wanted,