My sisters call my ex-husband Satan. That tells you everything you need to know about him. I thought I was sorted on the life front. I was a heart surgeon with a loving partner and two gorgeous little girls. Except my husband’s version of ‘loving’ is lying, cheating and sleeping his way around London. Which means I definitely deserve a refund. Unfortunately, moving on isn’t that simple. Just because I know how to operate on a heart doesn’t mean I know how to fix my broken one. Plus, I lost the receipt for him years ago so I’m definitely getting short changed. But now I’m single, am I ready to mingle? There are a few minor issues: 1) The last time I went on a date double denim was in fashion and my eyebrows were horrendously overplucked. 2) Men wear stupidly skinny jeans now. 3) I don’t know how to use dating apps but at least I don’t have to get changed out of my pyjamas. 4) Sometimes the most promising thing you have in common with a guy is a shared love of prawns. 5) I don’t know whether to open a date with ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ or ‘hey’ and once I ended up saying ‘howdy’. Everything happens for a reason, they say. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. But what happens when everything falls apart and you haven’t got a clue how to go fishing?