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Oh the joys of being young, and single with an inbox on Facebook.

Ok, we all have him/her. The one who changed you for the rest of your lovers and essentially broke you. There was usually a messy break-up that forced you into a Ben & Jerry’s a coma or made you read books like my personal favourite, “It’s Called a Breakup Because it’s Broken“, that uses wit and charm and blunt humour to make you realize he’s a jerk and you’re getting fat. Just put the ice cream down and walk away. Nevertheless, you needed that one. We all need the guy/girl who makes us a cold-hearted you-know-what so that we’ll be stronger, and less gullible, daters.

Now, usually you still think about, let’s call him… jerk-off (or JO for short), once in a blue moon when your latest and greatest conquest leaves you for a busty blonde 21-year-old named Amber – but besides that, all contact is usually cut like an umbilical cord. After all, having JO in your life means the worst side of you gets exposed and you end up looking all kinds of crazy – and no one wants that. I made a pact to delete and never look back… well until the dreaded facebook message appeared.

Late apologies are like a missed shoe sale – it’s not better late than never, it’s now buying shoes at full price, and that my friends is never a good thing. Either are late apologies. In fact, writing a note of apology 2 years later and tacking on the “better late than never” means the message subject line should have read, “the mumblings of a huge douche-bag”.

So word to the wise: the window of opportunity for a great shoe sale is minimal – so is your chance to undo your wrong doings. Unless of course you’re in therapy, and doing a 12-step program. Which in fact is where I should be for shopaholics. And when I am, I will be sure to spare the overdue apology to all the men in my life who have come second to a fabulous shoe sale. My apologies.