While my bank balance remains healthy, remaining locked in with my ex has come at the price of my mental healthIn every room in our one-bedroom flat, memories linger from when we used to be happy. I can almost hear the laughter echoing; the hours we spent dancing to 2008 indie bands, when we watched everyfilm back-to-back, folding into each other on the sofa like origami. There are still photos of us, now hidden and peeking out behind books and plant pots.
according to the Office of National Statistics, with 2022 experiencing a 29.5 per cent decline in splits As a secondary school teacher, he needed to stay close to work. Besides, I’m a journalist, not a hedge fund manager; I couldn’t afford to buy him out. So, we have to grit our teeth and ride it out.
Sleeping arrangements themselves are complicated – at first, we slept top to toe like two teenagers at a depressingly sexless sleepover, but I kept being woken up to a pair of size 11’s in my face. Now, we take turns on the sofa – and my back won’t forgive me for it., but you can’t exactly do that when your ex is on the sofa under the pug-themed duvet you bought together. We agreed not to bring people back, so if I do catch myself in flagrante, I’m forced to go back to a stranger’s house.