“He had more issues than the Readers Digest, so she cancelled her subscription.”

I was raised to be a good girl, nice to strangers, and caring to the less fortunate. But seriously, what do I look like? Florence bloody Nightingale?

I seem to have got myself ensconced with a good-looking, successful, charming, funny gentleman who happens to have so much baggage that I’m sure he shouldn’t be allowed to purchase flight tickets at normal price. Respectfully.

As my regular readers will concur, I suffer from ‘Analysis Paralysis’. Mr Baggage has inspired no less than hundreds of hours dissecting if it’s all really worth it, to stick it out with someone who although pleasant, lovely, fun and sweet, will always be sorting through some personal admin. Instinctively, women want to give give give; to be everything to everybody. And to leave ourselves til last.

Mr Baggage, please stop distracting me with your shiny white toothy pegs, your hefty biceps covered in beautiful tattoos, and your strong pheromones. I really actually have to tell you something rather important: I don’t give a rats arse about the fact that your ex wife left you for another man, or that she took you to the cleaners, taking your child with her. I really don’t give a continental hoot.

I’ve tried lending a helping hand, but that’s no reason to take my whole arm. Give it back!

Phew. How liberating to let that out.

As far as I’m concerned, we all have our cross to bear- small, medium, large, covered in splinters, whatever. We’re all not partial to having our hearts ripped out and put in a blender. But how you deal with it is purely your choice. Therapy, screaming off mountain tops, celibacy, Gloria Jean’s double toffee vanilla frappucino… Dealing with your issues is no-one else’s business but your own.

Age brings wrinkles, but also wisdom in abundance that is priceless. Being able to say “thanks, but no thanks” from previous experience is unfortunately not something you can buy over the counter.