Hot Danish and I have an unwritten rule: we do not talk about exes in front of the other. Not all couples are as sensitive/childish as us. Take my friend Evelyn: while recounting the goth stage of her youth she revealed that she once slept with her then-boyfriend in his coffin (I’m not sure why but I felt better when she told me this took place in his bedroom rather than at a morgue) over dinner. ‘You mean you slept with him rather than had sex with him in the coffin?’ HD asked.

‘We had sex in a coffin,’ Evelyn clarified. HD shifted in his seat uncomfortably; not because of the story content but because Evelyn’s boyfriend was among the group. Evelyn’s boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed.

My friend Mel is going to La Gavroche for her birthday. ‘Lucky you,’ I texted. ‘I once went for Trustafarian’s birthday. He had to borrow a cheap, too-tight jacket because he hadn’t brought his own.’ Suddenly, HD was looming over me – he’d seen my smile and was curious.
‘What was that about a jacket?’ he asked as I shoved my phone into my handbag, guiltily.

Where do we draw the line? I’ve no interest in going to the Maldives because HD went with his ex (what if I discover he’d gone backpacking around the world with her?). Meanwhile, HD has been known to say, ‘I bet you didn’t buy that [Mulberry handbag/pair of Louboutin shoes etc] yourself.’ I would like to recite a few of Destiny’s Child lyrics at this point, but he’s usually right (although I’m still not giving away my fave handbag). The only DC quote worth reciting is, ‘Ladies, it ‘aint easy bein’ independent.’ Or being part of a super sensitive couple. But then perhaps it isn’t so bad. ‘We cannot be more sensitive to pleasure without being sensitive to pain,’ as philosopher Alan Watts once said.