The problem with the vicious cycle of relationships (or at least the ONE problem that has chosen to irk me today) is that the more dating you do….the more 'firsts' you loose.

For example – our first kiss.

Our first ‘time’…(thank god there's only ONE of those).

Our first love.

As we go from failed relationship to failed relationship these once novel occurrences tend to fade into not the mundane but perhaps the routine. This is not to say that your first date or first movie night or inaugural foray into the bedroom won't be incredibly special with your new someone because of course every relationship is different. But it will inevitably loose a bit of its uniqueness and to varying degrees.

For example, we may have had more than two dozen first dates in our lives, but only a handful of 'meeting the parents' moments; twenty-something first kisses, but only three proposals of marriage (hey! I've never said 'yes'!).

These past experiences will forever be a part of our history. Development. E-True Hollywood Stories.

We know their significance (or lack thereof) because we were there, lived it and moved on. For most of the 20-30 something dating world, they are par for the course. You go into these relationships thinking ‘you’ve dated. I've dated. You've been in a few relationships. I've been in a few relationships. You've had sex while flying an airplane. I’ve….wait. wha? huh?’

But what happens when your ‘firsts’ don’t exactly match up? I’m not talking about the fact that you’ve done ‘it’ at 30,000 feet and he has yet to receive his mile high membership card, I’m referring to the BIG ‘firsts’. 

First time living with someone. First engagement. First wedding. (the last two I hope will be not only firsts but only’s for me)

As is the case with most scenarios in which one partner is more experienced than the other, we all want to know – was it better the first time around? How do I make this time different? And if I’m not THE first – can I be the LAST ‘first’ they’ll ever have?

So then this problem really comes down to being haunted not by the ghosts of YOUR past but of theirs – which is far worse because you’re left to wonder. You’re left with the morbid curiosity, having not experienced the memories for yourself, of how the partner who is now yours was once….theirs.

Normally the concept of Ex’s doesn’t bother me. I’m a confident, secure woman and typically operate under the assumption of ‘he WAS with her and now he’s with ME (lucky him).’ However, in my current situation this is easier said than done I’m afraid. Especially when his past isn’t quite legally out of our present and harassing him daily for some kind of reconciliation, professing her undying love, the fact that they are ‘soul mates’, and that he’s making ‘the biggest mistake of his life’ by ending their relationship (gag!).

The Russian naturally give reassurance of his affection for and devotion to me daily yet I still find myself repressing this uncontrollable urge to fly out to Vegas and shut her up Jerry Springer style.

However, I suspect that after the embarrassingly large display of red roses delivered to my office from the Canadian on Wednesday, own my baggage isn’t exactly willing to store itself neatly in the proverbial overhead compartment.