It’s said to be inevitable that our bad choices will occasionally come back to haunt us but what about our mediocre ones or the ones we gave little thought to at all before they re-appear to make life awkward?

Allow me to introduce you to The Boomerang. Unlike the player, who disappears on a semi-regular basis only to reappear in your DM’s, Instagram comments or Whatsapp messages, the Boomerang is not someone you’d think about dating again.

Don’t get me wrong, the Boomerang is pleasant, attractive and fun, just rarely thought about until life conspires to create a situation in which their presence taps wallops you in the face one morning with a smug, “Surprise!”

The Boomerang and I met on Bumble, the women-message-first app that is fast becoming my dating app of choice, largely because it’s just like Tinder – Swipe, swipe, swipe, girls! – but with slightly better manners, which is to say less sexy.

The Boomerang was well-educated, funny, had a good job and I think quite liked me until I got so drunk on our date that he decided it was time to put me in a taxi and never text again.

C’est la vie, I thought, and got on with my life in the knowledge that I was really not that drunk at all and, anyway, he was lucky to have the pleasure of my company in that state. Three proseccos in and I’m hilarious.

So that was that. I threw the experience into the ether and forgot about it. Until, that is, he flew back at me out of nowhere one day, hitting me firmly between the eyes in the lobby of a job I’d started a few months previously, about four months after our initial date.

This new job, I should make clear is one that comes with a level of responsibility that implies I should conduct myself with the kind of professionalism and propriety that implies a cool competence and intelligence at all times.

It does not imply that on seeing someone I once drunkenly put off myself that I should hide in a corner until he has been escorted into an important meeting by one of my colleagues.

Further, it does not imply that I should then run back into my office and shriekingly call all my friends on the basis that “Not only is he here, he’s wearing bright red trousers. Maybe this will finally be the impetus I need to start dressing up work HAHAHA!” (It wasn’t. Actual famous people wonder into our place and I still cannot bring myself to put lipstick on.)

It also does not imply that I should then have toured the building, telling all my female colleagues about this monstrous coincidence and then sending them to walk past the glass-fronted meeting room his meeting room was taking place in so they could have a gawp prompting much commentary on those trousers.

It probably implies that shouldn’t have told the CEO either, and that he shouldn’t have approached me later that day joking that “The Boomerang was asking for you. Do you wanna head down and say hello?”The job in no way implies that at all but I still did it.

Sometimes watching getting hit in the head by a boomerang is hilarious.