You're breaking up

Tennyson famously wrote, “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all”. However, Smokey Robinson disagreed.

“A taste of honey is worse than none at all,” he claimed. And they’re both right.

Looking back on past lovers put me firmly in the camp of the poet. It’s far, far better to have impressed, caressed and undressed all those glorious women – and some of their sisters, than never to have adored them intimately at all.

To never have loved? That’s inhuman. Like the priesthood, or accountancy.

But in the fresh wound of a break-up, it doesn’t feel like that. Suddenly Smokey is right. For love to be withdrawn, hastily and unexpectedly is devastating, like a death in the family, or losing to Crystal Palace.

And it is in this unfortunate position I found myself in. Spurned by Ayesha; the final straw being my answering her door to Jevovah’s Witnesses naked. I thought it would make them go away. And I was so impressed with their cheerful bonhomie I stayed a while and made my position a little clearer until she dragged me in, mortified.

The writing was already on the wall. And if I had been looking at the wall instead of the most delicious bottom in the hemisphere, I might have seen it coming. If I had only read those signs. Damn her golden buttocks.

The pain of loss stays with me for months sometimes. Friends said, ‘Get back on the saddle, mate. You’ll soon forget her.’

But pulling someone just to get over Ayesha only served to make me feel dirty. So I did it again. That felt dirty too and in no time at all I was cured and back on the Tennyson. Phew.

With time and a little new lovin’, the pain is long gone. What remains is the memory of a wonderful, sweet woman. With an amazing bum.