The law of love has traditionally dictated that dumpers are villains. Meanwhile, sobbing into their pillows, dumpees are unquestionably regarded as innocent victims. The bastard! How could they do that? Stink bombs through the letter box! How else to console the brokenhearted but to demonise the heartbreaker?

It is time, however, to champion dumpers everywhere for their services to moving along spent relationships. Sienna, we salute you for terminating an incurably imbalanced romance. Okay, so the act of dumpage may well be concomitant with thoroughly despicable behaviour — infidelity, dramatic departures and other such deviant doings — but this is often just symptomatic of a rotting relationship that’s crying out to be killed off. Bravo to the bold souls who are willing to haul themselves out of the comfort zone: a place with such magnetic hold, it’s why so much bad love endures. Dumpers spare their dumpees a loveless future. Here, four exemplars of extermination explain why they sacked their worse halves — including the woman who made sure her boyfriend got wind of her indiscretion and the man who ran away from home, leaving nothing more than a note. They might regret their actions, but not the outcome.

HE WAS TOO KINKY

Ingrid, 33, was with her first boyfriend for 10 years

On my first day in the sixth form, I fell in love with a tall, handsome 17-year-old. He turned out to be sweet, clever, caring and funny. After graduating, we bought a place. I wasn’t career-oriented, whereas he was on a fast track to success. When we’d been together for seven years, however, he was earning three times my salary and started looking down on me. Sex became an unpleasant chore. Every weekend started with a row: I would either have sex out of duty or refuse and suffer his sulking.

I comfort ate, putting on three stone. I spent my early twenties shrouded in fat, with no confidence, invisible to anyone other than my boyfriend. I decided to take control and slimmed down to a size 10. My legs became my best feature. Brimming with confidence, I suggested trying high heels as part of foreplay. Unfortunately, it quickly turned into a shoe fetish. Unless I was in shoes and nothing else, he didn’t want sex. He also realised that he wasn’t the only man to appreciate my new body. As his confidence plummeted, I was repelled. I loved the release of going out with friends and flirting — it was like being let loose in a candy shop full of men.

I wish I had been strong enough to walk out then, but we had grown up together and the habit was hard to stop. Instead of making the clean break he deserved, I smashed our relationship by sleeping with someone else and making sure he found out by telling a mutual friend. He never forgave me.

I don’t regret leaving: we couldn’t make each other happy, in or out of bed. I learnt, though, that if the sex isn’t good from the start, it’s unlikely to get better — and that you should always discuss problems, however painful that may be.

I MARRIED A CONTROL FREAK

John, 40, left his wife five years ago

I met Gail on a training course. I was fascinated by this feisty, single-minded woman. Within weeks, she had moved into my flat. She had just finished a serious relationship and wanted to continue where she had left off — on the verge of marriage. We had fun, but she was tempestuous and obsessed with getting her own way. We argued constantly, but she thought marriage would solve our problems. There was no romantic proposal; I simply gave in. When I admitted my doubts, she threatened to kill herself.

In spite of the emotional blackmail, the marriage was fine at first. The cracks opened again after our son, Ben, was born. She resented me going to work and hated not being in control. She frequently demanded that I call in sick so she could meet friends for lunch. She would never accept she was wrong. I went along with her demands for an easy life, but the rows escalated. There were times when I wanted to kill her.

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