So there I was, staggering unbelievably wankered/reeking/drunk/pissed through the club on Friday night. I had my victim in sight. Adam the Biologist - tall & blonde and all mine! But lo and behold my creepy stalker comes and up wraps his scrawny arms around me.

Rape, rape!, I scream in my head.

I have to explain the history between me and my stalker. I did once kiss him and perhaps said a few things I didn't mean (gosh, the I Love You's were just spilling out that night) but really, 500 text messages and a week later he just hasn't got the message. Hellooo Stalker Dude: people say things they don't mean when they're drunk! Goddamnit, it happens all the time!

I threw off Creepy Stalker like the tiny, weedy mollusc he is and bounded towards Adam with the energy and eagerness of a beaver on heat. I won't go further suffice to say that Tall and Blonde Biologist equates hot, sexy kisser.

And so the circle is complete. My femininity and all round sexuality has been confirmed and The Ex is no longer in the picture. I am back on form - watch out, World!