At some point two men is too many men although it seems like a good idea to start: you should always have a redundancy.

Since you saw that Sex and the City episode you back all your files up but you also understand love is unexpected and cyclical and every person you say no to, send away, is due a do-over, and chances are available – like sold out Chanel on eBay. You’ve got to pay a little extra for it, give more of yourself you think you’ve not got, but if you’re serious about completing collections, can say you exhausted every inch and avenue when you’re dying or dead, it’s worth it.

The decision is simpler than you think. When someone calls you “family” you either feel it or don’t. And when Jack says it you picture Annie Hall, Bride Wars, imagine letting go, and realise it’s possible, and that it shouldn’t be, and your choice is made for you and it’s the right one and it’s the right one and it’s the right one and the right one is.

Like Jason Bourne Except I Wake Up on Merry Go Rounds

By season 9 it’s a struggle to think, “If this character didn’t die, if Dan doesn’t shoot them, then what might they do, where would they be now?”

By season 9 you start wondering, “Is 9 years too much, too many to care about? And when some of the ensemble leave to start families with secondary characters from other TV shows, will the audience care who you introduce next? That guy from Laguna Beach or the one from Lipstick Jungle?”

So when Jack asks if he’s like Jason Bourne, even remotely, the answer should be, “Matt Damon’s not even Bourne now, and if he’s not, the slot’s open, it’s a conveyor belt anyway, which might just work if you wake up on roundabouts.”