I don't cope well with heartbreak.

I doubt that makes me special in any way. I guess none of us want to have our hearts broken. But we all probably deal with it in different ways.

Me, I retreat. Hide in my bed.

Occasionally, I'll want to see how the other half live: remind myself I'm single and not dead, and let my friends take me out. I usually regret it, reminded of the slim pickings out there, then burrow myself under my covers again.

For the first few weeks after a break-up, I can't even listen to music. I can suddenly identify with every single lyric of every single song, can somehow apply any line to my current situation. The most unlikely of tunes can floor me. "Breathe" by The Prodigy. "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet. Joe Dolce's "Shaddap Your Face". I'm not kidding.

The links are usually tenuous, but they still slowly drive me insane.

Eventually I finally pick myself up, start to find me again. The music returns to my life. I continue to wallow in the shallows of sadness for a bit: those heart-wrenching ballads, where the words cut through to the very core of my heart, like the sharpest of scalpels. This time I let it hurt though. Embrace the pain.

The next phase in my own healing process features angrier songs; the how-dare-you-leave-me Alanis types; they make me want to track my ex down, and punch him square in the face. Perhaps beat up a few other wrong 'uns while I'm at it.

And then, finally, I am a whole new woman. I bring out the big guns: the empowering ditties where I thank my ex, Little Mix style, for making me who I am.

Of course, there are always a couple of bumps in the road, a few backslides . . . You know, like the time an ex removed me as a Facebook friend or - possibly worse - another who started posting frequent couplies with his new girlfriend just a month or two after we split. But usually by these points, I'm mostly over the break-up and, although I'm hurt, I'm far enough along in the grieving process to move on after merely a minor breakdown.

Sometimes I think I'm better off just staying single, because whenever I finally get over a break- up, it seems those are the times when I really have my shit together. I go to the gym more regularly, actually eat the recommended portions of fruit and veg a day, usually start up some sort of new hobby. Sleep better, read tons. Spend less time stalking people on social media.

And it was during one of those "living my best life" phases that I first met Declan Breslin.

Our meet-cute actually was pretty cute . . . It took place on the ferry to Dunoon.

Wee bit of geography for you - a lot of folk think Dunoon is an island, but it's not. It's just quicker to get there by boat than by road, which is actually true of a good few places in Scotland. Happily - or so it seemed at the time anyway - both of us had chosen to travel by ferry, so our fates were apparently destined to collide that day.

I'd originally noticed him on the train up to Gourock, as I walked past with my sister. He was spread out over four seats (luckily it wasn't a busy train as I hate folk who do that normally) and he was apparently fast asleep.

"He's not bad, eh?" Lou nudged me, tilting her chin in his direction. We took a moment to admire him, as the lady in front of us in the aisle had decided to just stop for no apparent reason. Wavy black hair falling over his forehead, unfairly long dark lashes, enviable cheekbones. He looked completely relaxed, the slightest hint of a contented smile curling the edges of his mouth.

"Nice lips," I observed. "I bet he'd be a great kisser."

"I bet he'd be great at everything, if you know what I mean," Lou chortled, her elbow digging into my side again. She was four years younger than me, but it seems she'd always had a far dirtier mind.

My eyes landed on the guitar case propped next to him, and I found myself frowning. "Oh. He's a musician though." My enthusiasm immediately waned.

It's not that I wasn't a fan of musicians. I just didn't particularly want to get involved with one. I'd read way too many stories about rock stars and groupies, and I just knew I'd be a paranoid wreck if I ever dated one. I found it hard enough to trust the non-musical guys.

"I'll have him then," Lou joked, as the woman in front finally realised she was holding us all up and started moving again. I took one final look at the slumbering sex god, and I couldn't help but notice his smile seemed to have widened slightly. Had he heard us? My cheeks instantly warmed up. It was fine though - it wasn't like I was ever going to see him again!

Or so I thought.

Until he dropped into the seat opposite me on the ferry later that same day. Lou had disappeared outside for some fresh air. "Hey," he said easily, grinning. Turned out he was even better looking when he was awake. My tongue seemed to tie itself in a knot. "What's taking you to Dunoon?"

I found my voice finally. "A wedding," I managed to say. "One of my best friends is getting married today." I glanced down at my overnight bag, remembering the quick turnaround time we would have at the other side of the Firth of Clyde to check into the hotel, get dressed for the ceremony, and get to the venue. We'd left Glasgow far later than planned, and I was trying not to panic.

"That wouldn't be Layla and Kenny's wedding, would it?" He asked me. I nodded. "Small world, I'm playing in the wedding band."

"You're in a wedding band?" My heart sank. I think I'd secretly been hoping that he was just guitar-sitting for a friend.

He laughed. "Not usually; I'm just covering for one of my mates - he broke his arm last week and is out of commission for a while."

"Ouch," I winced.

"Idiot decided it would be a good idea to ride down a hill in a shopping trolley." He shook his head, adding in a muttered voice. "I probably shouldn't have dared him to do it."

Ah.

I was already getting the impression that this guy was also a Bad Boy. Another cross mark against him, on account of me being a Good Girl. I didn't really believe that opposites could attract.

Yet I couldn't deny there was a spark between us. From the moment our eyes had met, the kindling had been lit. I was already fighting a force I had no control over.

"I'm Declan." He reached over to shake my hand, and I felt that fizz at his touch. Yep, I already knew this guy was going to cause me a world of pain. Exquisite, amazing, incredible pain.

"Abby," I replied. I couldn't help but grin.

He flashed that smile at me again before lowering his voice again, his eyes intent on mine. "Nice to meet you. Oh, and by the way, I am a great kisser." He winked, letting me know once and for all that he'd heard us talking about him on the train. My face reddened once again.

"What have you got against musicians though?" He asked. "We're not all bad, you know."

I shrugged. "It's just the environment, I guess," I'd explained. "You must have girls throwing themselves at you. Can make a guy cocky."

He laughed. "I was born cocky; my career has fuck all to do with that." He moved over into the chair beside me, and touched my arm lightly, eyes suddenly serious. "But I hope you'll let me prove that some of us musicians are worth taking a chance on."

And so it began.

Declan and the wedding band were a massive hit at the reception. I could feel his gaze on me for most of their performance, and I could feel myself glowing from the attention. I may as well have had a spotlight on me. I was tempted to throw my knickers at him. I resisted. (For approximately a week.)

After the band finished playing, there was a DJ set. As "I Think We're Alone Now" started to play, Declan appeared next to me, wordlessly took my hand, and led me outside. I was powerless to do anything but obey. The attraction between us knew no boundaries.

"Will you let me take you out once we're back in Glasgow?" he asked me quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

I swallowed nervously, looking up into his eyes. They were such an intriguing shade of gray. Everything about him intrigued me.  "Yes," I whispered. "I'd really like that."

And then he kissed me. Under the moonlight, as Tiffany sang about "trying to get away into the night". He hadn't been wrong - he was indeed a great kisser. It was so romantic. Such a beautiful start to a relationship.

Such a shame it had to end.

Declan actually seemed quite promising at  the start, didn't he? Maybe he's not all bad? Hmmm . . .

What would be on your break-up playlist? I'm all about the angst myself; I remember "Behind These Hazel Eyes" by Kelly Clarkson featuring heavily for me in the past. Actually, quite a few other Kelly songs too, now I come to think about it . . . She was like the queen of angry break-up songs for a good few years!