The Breadcrumbing Boomerang (And Why I’m Not Eating Scraps)

This week the universe gave me one of those moments where it doesn’t gently guide you. It doesn’t whisper. It doesn’t nudge. It grabs you by the short and curlies, spins you round, and goes: “Bitch. Wake. Up.”

Because when you’re stronger, you don’t need months of confusion anymore. You don’t need to overanalyse. You don’t need a group chat summit, a TikTok tarot reading, and three walks around the block just to decode a message. You see it instantly. The breadcrumbing. The circling back. The arrogance. The audacity. And honestly… it was almost impressive.

One of them popped back up like a bad sequel nobody asked for. Not with a conversation, not with warmth, not even with basic manners. Just a matter of fact little message typed on Facebook Messenger. Facebook Messenger. As if we’re 19 and arranging to meet behind the bike sheds.

We communicated on WhatsApp before, but no, apparently this was a drive-by announcement situation. Just a casual little “this is how it’s going to be” dropped into my inbox like I’m meant to nod along.

Sorry… who are you talking to? The version of me from 2012? Because she’s not available. She’s retired. She’s in the Maldives emotionally.

Breadcrumbing is such a strange sport when you really look at it. It’s not love. It’s not even friendship. It’s just ego in a trench coat. It’s someone wanting access to you without offering anything real. A little “just checking you still exist and might respond” tap on the glass.

No babe. I’m not a museum exhibit.

And then, as if the universe wanted to really drive the point home, I got ghosted. For the second time. By the same person. Twice. At that point it’s not even haunting, it’s just laziness.

Was I at fault? Honestly… yes. Not because I deserved it, not because I caused it, but because I truly believed he wouldn’t do it again. I gave someone the benefit of the doubt when they’d already shown me exactly who they were. That one’s on me.

But the lesson? Crystal. Bloody. Clear.

The universe doesn’t repeat a test because it hates you. It repeats it until you stop being soft about it. And this time, I got a 45% just passed.

And just to say this, because I know what it can look like on the surface… this weekly blog isn’t here for me to be boring and just talk about men. That’s not the point. This whole series is about starting again, yes, but it’s deeper than dating or who messaged who. These moments are just mirrors. They show me how much stronger I am now, how quickly I recognise what isn’t for me, and how differently I respond. I’m writing it honestly because it’s real life, and real life isn’t always perfectly packaged. Sometimes growth looks like catching an old pattern at the door and finally saying, not this time.

And here’s the real plot twist… both of these men were from way back in my past. Like the universe dug into the archives. Proper throwbacks. Vintage. Expired stock.

And let that be a lesson in itself: stop upcycling men and stick with old picture frames Zo.

If it’s circling back, it’s probably because it couldn’t find anyone new willing to tolerate it. Old flames are rarely flames, barely even just smoke… just a blocked number waiting to happen.

I don’t even know what else to call it. Manipulationship? Complicationship? Humilationship? People who bring chaos that isn’t exciting, it’s just draining.

And listen, you know me. I love chaos. I love fun. I love a bit of madness. But this? This was all in one day. Even for me… too much.

It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t spontaneity. It was emotional laziness with a side of arrogance.

So I did what any self-respecting woman in her clarity era does. I shut those doors. With a kick.

And here’s the exciting part. The universe doesn’t take something away without making space. Because as I shut those dusty little doors from the past… a door opened.

Downloading………..

 

Same person.

New chapter. x