Catching up with some old girlfriends, we rather rudely commented on one's new co-pilot in life and how different he was from all her others. He had a job, shaved every now and again, was devoid of psycho ex partners and treated her with love and respect. All refreshing qualities.
There had been a time, we reminded her, when we could have thrown 10 good men and one dog at her and she'd have picked the dog every time. You start to like what you've grown to know - no matter how bad it is. What had changed? "For the first time in my life I asked myself what I really wanted. I knew what I'd had - and decided not to choose it again. As simple as that," she said.
I feel the same way about the upcoming local body elections. Decisions. Decisions. Whether we're some big developer or renting an inadequate shack and wondering how we'll ever get our first home - the one time when each of our opinions weighs equally on local governance and what we want for our town, is when the votes are counted. With so many mayoral candidates jostling out of the starting gate it's hard to hear what it is that they're actually promising. Many of them are either already in this council or have been not so long ago and I'm getting dizzy with "Dougal's magic roundabout" of councillors delivering power to the people.
Maybe they are like lovers - if you like what we've had over the last decade then they really don't need to promise anything new because what they'll deliver is most likely more of the same.
A recent browse through the council photo hall of the ghosts of councillors past proved frightening.