Let it go? Not likely - there's nothing wrong with holding a grudge Jennifer Aniston says I have to learn to forgive and forget. In a recent interview she explained why she has let go of the grudge she held against her ex-husband, Brad Pitt, and his new wife, Angelina Jolie. "Let it go" is probably the piece of advice I most frequently give to friends, yet fail to take myself. As someone who has been on a diet since the late seventies, I find it quite difficult to be the bigger person voluntarily. More often than not, however, the universe just will not let me. Case in point: the other morning I ran out of milk. In a moment I will probably regret for the rest of my life, I decided to nip down to the cafe for breakfast. I put on a pair of jogging bottoms, an old fleece hoodie and some flip-flops over my socks. No, I don't know what I was thinking either. Twenty minutes, a poppy seed muffin and a burnt tongue later, I was leaving the place. As I did, several things happened in a John Woo-style slow-motion action sequence: my hoodie pocket caught on the door handle; as I tried to free myself, I became tangled up with the leash of a dog tethered outside; I stumbled backwards and stepped into a puddle; I swore loudly; and as I turned around I walked straight into my ex. The one that really hurt. The one that never did me the courtesy of explaining the whys and wherefores. The one who moved on indecently quickly. The one about whom I still discreetly try to get information from mutual acquaintances. The one I had to defriend on Facebook so I wouldn't see pictures of his smug face being happy with someone new. "If I could wake up now, please," I thought to myself, "I promise never again to leave the house unbeautiful." I couldn't even tell you what was said through the haze of embarrassment. A perfunctory greeting. A promise to catch up soon. A vague hope that comet 67P might choose that particular moment to obliterate the planet. I got back home and stood in front of the bathroom mirror to survey the damage. It was bad: coffee stain down the front of my top - check; poppy seed stuck between my teeth - check; hair that looked like an Elvis impersonator had mated with an echidna - check. Learn to let go, Aniston says. And she is right. Why should I care what this guy thinks? Why is it so difficult to let go of some bits of the past? The obvious answer is that they are not in the past. Not for both people involved. The relationship is, but its effects can exist very much in the present. All one can do is make a choice between trying to hide them, like the unseemly legacy of a lost war, or displaying them proudly like the scars of a battle still being fought. "I bet he's thinking: "Gee, how did I let this peach get away,"" I say out loud to the mirror, undermining my little pep talk. In any case, what is so wrong with holding a grudge? I'm not suggesting anything that poisons one's life, or a feud that traverses generations - but a healthy distance for people who have caused hurt seems perfectly reasonable. A grudge usually indicates a dramatic mismatch between our expectations of others and the reality; an acknowledgment that someone disappointed us deeply and, often, doesn't even realise it. It can be an emotional shield. I naturally mistrust people who are really good friends with their exes. I don't know why - it just seems far too civilised to be genuine. Once it is over, you cry; you drink; you clean the house obsessively; you drink some more. And that is that. You don't keep hanging around with a live reminder of how mistakenly you invested the last however-many months or years. I know someone whose entire circle of friends consists of ex-flings. Like a sort of support group. A grudge is much healthier. Let it go, Aniston says. Sure, Jennifer! Give me 10 years and Justin Theroux and I am certain I can pick up the pieces and get on with my life.