If it were up to me, they'd form a club and spend a couple of hours a week CRYING over how brilliant I was.
Unfortunately, many of them refuse to do that.
At the end of last Summer, you may remember, I wasn't very active on the ol' blog.
It was mostly because I got myself a boyfriend.
I haven't spoken about it yet because it was all a bit sore on his end. BUT HE APPEARS TO HAVE MOVED ON, so it's fine now.
(On twitter, we refer to him as The Scottish One, so that'll probably do here as well. It is unlikely that there'll be another Scottish boyfriend. For various reasons.)
In many ways, I started dating him because of circumstance. I don't mean that unkindly at all, because I actually thought quite a lot of him at the time. But, in my increasingly calamitous life, there had just been all that unpleasant business with Doughnut and I needed, really, someone who was going to worship me unquestioningly and keep me from falling apart at the seams.
And The Scottish One did that. For a little while.
Until I quickly realised that I was the least of our troubles.
In hindsight, I suppose, I could have perhaps chosen someone a little bit less complicated. He was, after all, afflicted with depression and anxiety like you wouldn't BELIEVE. Not ideal for someone like me, who has a psychotic crisis every couple of days.
In the end, I was holding him together far more than the other way around and I'm, frankly, too selfish for that kind of thing.
Outside influences didn't exactly help either - his family were in a class all of their own. I didn't hear much from them at the time, but I've heard more than enough since we broke up. His friends were good lot - give or take a philandering actor, a desperate recording artist and a Scottish Nationalist - but almost entirely ignorant of his ongoing problems in favour of their own.
I was who he talked to, who he cried on, who he shouted at...
And so, we broke up. And eventually stopped speaking.
The final straw, apparently, was my confession that I did not find him even remotely attractive. (I put it much more delicately though, I assure you.) That, to him, negated everything good that I'd ever said and meant that we couldn't even be friends anymore.
We literally haven't spoken since.
I've sent a few messages here and there, mostly because I am insane and I hate being ignored, but overall I don't think I actually mind. I was certainly never upset by how things ended, just a little put out.
THAT WAS UNTIL THIS EVENING.
I had a naughty little look at his tumblr - because it's my week off and, as mentioned, I am ridiculous - and discovered that he has found himself a new girlfriend.
She, herself, does not provoke any jealousy within me. (I rarely get jealous of women, oddly, and the ones that I do get jealous of would not be appearing in this scenario.) So, as far as I am concerned, that can all carry on as it is.
The only thing wrong with this situation is that, as far as I can tell, he is no longer IN PIECES.
BEING UPSET WAS HIS ONLY JOB.
Gone are the lengthy emails about how wonderful I am. Gone are the vaguely suicidal goodbyes. Gone are the assurances that I am the most important person in the world. Gone are the promises of eternal love. Gone is my back-up plan.
As you can see, it's all very selfish of him. Exactly how is my ego to cope if there are not devastated men scattered about the United Kingdom?
This will not be allowed to happen in future.