The Adventures of Naughty Miss Jones

'cos naughty miss jones knows vibrators. Visit me at


Am I a horrible, horrible person if I admit seeing the demise of my ex bought me a little joy? Will you write me off completely as a person (and sex-toy vendor) if I tell you I recently went home and poured myself a glass of congratulatory champers after seeing my ex and knowing I was the one who was doing better? Yes, well, before you judge me and start saying mean things about me on twitter, allow me to tell you this part of my life story.

A few years ago, I was in a relationship with a man. He had been my friend for a number of years before we got together, and a good friend at that. I had assumed, even though through our years of friendship I knew all about his womanizing ways and mega-ego, that he would never do anything to hurt me. But he did. And the bastard never even had the decency to say sorry.

While it hurt like hell in the aftermath (and, worse still, made me doubt myself), with time I got over it and came to think of him little.

Anyway, fast-forward a few years, and another man did another bad thing (really must work on my taste in men, Missy!). It’s left me wanting to shut out the world and crawl into a ball and cuddle my dog and drink too much wine and watch Kardashians and cry, all at the same time, for the last few months. And always left me asking the same questions ‘how can these guys just get away with it?’ And ‘Do they seriously not own a conscience?’.

So, dealing with that, I walked into a 3 day conference a few weeks ago. I did not recognize my ex at first (keep reading to find out why…ooo the suspense!) but the moment I heard his voice as we went round the circle and did the little introduce yourself bit I realized I would be spending 3 entire days in the presence of a man who had treated me like absolute shit and had, or so I thought a the time, got away with it.


But here’s where it gets good. After hearing his voice, I looked up to my ex and saw a completely different person. He had about doubled in weight, had grown a beard that really didn’t suit him (presumably to hide his newly acquired double chin) and he looked as if he had aged about 15 years. He just looked weary. Like a man who had fought the world, and the world had won. Gone was the charismatic, attractive alpha male of yesteryear, and in his place was a withdrawn, obese, exhausted old man (with a weird beard).

Knowing that this person who had done so much damage was not in fact succeeding, was looking like crap, and knowing when he approached me to talk as if nothing had ever happened, (and I told him to bugger off, go me!) I felt nothing but pity for this person, well, it made me feel good (and was the perfect excuse to crack a bottle of Moet, apparently).

Strange as it sounds, it kind of bought back a little faith in the universe.

Now, when I get sad and feel like shutting out the world and crawling into a ball and cuddling my dog and drinking too much wine and watching the Kardashians and crying, all at the same time, I just think of my ex and remind myself the universe has a funny way of working things out, and giving it back to those that deserve it. Karma may be a bitch, but right now she is definitely my bitch. So much so, I’d even share my champers with her.

Naughty Miss Jones xx

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